


'Ma Amelan'leal

by laPamplemousse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Dragon Age Quest: What Pride Had Wrought, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Dubious Consent, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Rape/Non-con Elements, Resolved Sexual Tension, Serious Injuries, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temple of Mythal, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Well of Sorrows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laPamplemousse/pseuds/laPamplemousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After <a href="http://amaya-lavellan.tumblr.com">Amaya Lavellan</a> drinks from the Well of Sorrows, Abelas takes her away to another abandoned temple of Mythal to ensure that the knowledge of the Well is not squandered. He subjects her to the strict training that priests of Mythal underwent before partaking in the vir'abelsan. Amaya is resistant at first, but after experiencing side effects from the Well and being unable to use the knowledge she received, she becomes more willing to work with Abelas. </p><p>His training is hard and draining and he's mostly cold and distant, but Amaya learns to trust Abelas and eventually open up to him. She doesn't know how long the training will take, or what will happen if it's ever completed.  </p><p>Elvhen translations from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848">Project Elvhen</a>.</p><p>(11/12/15: Now with gorgeous art! See Chapter 1)<br/>(2/3/16: Now with MORE amazing art! See Chapter 7)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well of Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

> For updates and other Dragon Age stuff, I'm on tumblr: [fenriswaifu.tumblr.com](http://fenriswaifu.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with gorgeous art from the incredibly talented [LavellanLove](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LavellanLove) as her part for our DA Fic Swap trade! (See below)

Amaya’s vision went black as the cool water from the Well trickled down her throat. She doubled over in pain—her head felt like it was exploding, too many voices, feelings, words for her to process. She cried out, and when her vision returned she saw the Eluvian near the Well begin to glow. She couldn’t hear anything; the noise in her head too loud to process still, but one of the voices urged her to turn around, towards the entrance to the temple. There she saw Corypheus, cursing at her for taking the Well from him. Suddenly he was racing towards the Well, and instinctively she activated the Eluvian. She urged her companions to travel through it as Corypheus drew closer.

As Amaya ran to the Eluvian, the water from the Well rose up and took form—the form of a woman—behind her. She was about to jump through the mirror herself when a pair of strong gauntleted arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, the unyielding armor of her captor digging into her back. As one of the arms around her loosened she saw long fingers reach out to touch the mirror, and the form from the Well pushed them through. They fell into the Eluvian just as Corypheus reached the Well, and Amaya heard the mirror crack behind them. She landed with a thud on a stone floor in a dark room, and Amaya wondered where her captor had gone. She tried to look around for them, but the room was too dark. She had to blink several times before she could begin to make out her surroundings.

She appeared to be in a basement of some sort, though moonlight filtered in through a few tiny windows at the tops of the walls. Her captor was nowhere to be seen. Murals were painted on the walls, scenes from Elvhen history and legends. As Amaya gazed at them, the stories from each scene started running through her head all at once. She could barely pick out individual words, the voices like whispers on the wind, combined into a hurricane of sound. Some stories she didn’t need to hear to understand, they were as familiar to her as her own name. Others she thought she knew, but the whispers in her head told a different tale.

As Amaya strained to piece together the words running through her mind, the murals looked as if they had come life in front of her eyes. They jumped from the walls, the scenes moving and changing. They surrounded her, spinning around her as they drew closer. They took on an otherworldly glow, not green like the Fade but a soft blue. She began to feel dizzy and closed her eyes, but the images didn’t disappear. They were in her mind now, dancing to the songs of the voices in her head, and her body convulsed as white-hot pain pulsed through her every nerve ending. She screamed, the sound echoing around her in waves, and everything went black.

Flames licked at her body, penetrating down into her bones, though her skin remained intact and unblemished. The heat was unbearable, the fire shooting up her spine into her head. She tried to scream but no sound came out. She saw shadows dancing behind the flames, singing a song she couldn't understand. They danced faster and faster, their song getting louder and louder into cacophony as the fire continued to sear her very being. One of the shadows began walking towards her, this one silent and calm, its slow approach putting Amaya at ease. Each step it took pushed the others farther away until they were barely visible, their song muted to a dull hum. The shadow began whispering words of comfort as it stood in front of her. It reached out its hand to touch her face, ice shooting from its fingers and sending a chilling shockwave through her head.

She woke up shivering and drenched in sweat, the heat that still consumed her body fighting against the sudden coolness traveling slowly down her spine. She opened her eyes to see someone leaning over her, pressing a cold cloth to her forehead and whispering something in Elvhen. Her vision was too blurry to make out their face, and when she was finally able to focus they had gotten up and walked to the other side of the room. She was lying on a cot in the same room as before, though daylight poured in from the tiny windows now. She tried to sit up but she was too weak and the simple movement caused her head to spin. She avoided looking at the murals on the wall, instead turning her attention to the other person in the room.

He stood at a table mixing some herbs together. She could only see his back from where she was lying. He was tall and muscular, and wore tight-fitting golden armor with a wide hood covering his head. She had seen this person before.

“Abelas?” Amaya asked. 

He turned around, his honey-colored eyes illuminated by a sunbeam crossing his face. He walked back over to her, carrying a bowl with an herb mixture in it. Amaya just stared at him, her brow furrowed and mouth agape. He sat down next to her cot and removed the cold cloth, then began applying the paste to her forehead, temples, either side of her neck, over her heart, and on each wrist. It smelled of elfroot and something else, a sweet citrus scent that was almost floral. It felt cool and it tingled as Abelas applied it to her skin. The mixture continued to cool as it dried, the sensation traveling across her skin and down into her muscles.

Almost instantly, Amaya felt the burning heat in her body fade away, chased off by the soothing coolness that now flowed through her very veins. She sighed, and Abelas placed his hand on top of her head, then her cheek, then placed two fingers against her neck. Each touch sent chills down her spine, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"What are you doing? Where are we? Why have you brought me here?" Amaya asked. Her voice was so hoarse it was barely louder than a whisper.

Abelas made a small noise in his throat, but otherwise remained silent as he continued to hold his fingers over her pulse. He clicked his tongue and shot up from where he was sitting, almost knocking the stool over as he did so. He strode back over to the other side of the room and returned with a cup of water. Holding Amaya’s head up slightly, he tilted the cup against her lips. She drank hesitantly, the cool water reviving her parched tongue and soothing her throat. After a moment, she abandoned her caution in favor of the much-needed hydration, gulping the rest of the water down in a few seconds.

Abelas refilled the cup and brought it back to her, and she downed it in a similar fashion as before. Abelas returned the cup to the table, and with a small glance at Amaya he walked towards the stairs leading out of the room. 

“Abelas!” Amaya called after him. “Where are you going? You still haven’t told me what’s going on! Why have you brought me here?”

He kept walking, not bothering to even turn his head as he ascended the stone steps out of the room. 

She yelled, trying to will her body to move, but she was too weak. Hot tears stung her eyes as she thought about all that had happened. She had defeated Samson, destroying his armor and leaving him weak and unconscious. She had stolen the Well of Sorrows and in turn, the Eluvian, from Corypheus. She had received the knowledge of thousands of years of Elvhen culture, and yet she was unable to decipher it. The voices in her head threatened to drive her insane, and she knew they were somehow affecting her body as well. Abelas had kidnapped her for reasons she didn’t know, treated her with herbs, and left her there, alone and helpless, without saying one word to her.

She choked back a sob as she felt the tears fall down her face. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for any of this. The Mark on her hand, the power it had given her, the Well and the pain it was causing her, all of Thedas counting on her to save them from Corypheus and the hole in the sky. Why had she been put on this path? What would happen if she failed?

The cooling salve Abelas had applied to her skin tingled, causing another rush of cold to shoot across her body. With it came a sense of calm, spreading over her in a soothing wave. Her tears dried and the sobs ceased, her breathing slowing as she once again drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing, beautiful, gorgeous art from the incredibly talented [LavellanLove](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LavellanLove) as her part for our [DA Fic Swap trade](http://lavellanlove.tumblr.com/post/133109142566/my-contribution-to-daficswap-a-scene-from)! 
> 
>   
> [Full Size](https://40.media.tumblr.com/2d72f60444ad9057f3781e09c3a9383b/tumblr_nxqh8kBStP1svsk2bo1_1280.jpg)


	2. Captive

The next several days passed in the darkness of dreamless sleep, broken only by brief moments of lucidity. Amaya would wake to find Abelas reapplying the salve to her skin, or bringing water to her lips, or casting strange spells over her. On more than one occasion she woke to the sound of Abelas singing, his deep voice soft and sorrowful. She felt numb, her head heavy and clouded. She would try to speak, to move, but she was paralyzed, and sleep took her again quickly each time. Once, she woke to find that she was no longer on a cot, but a large, plush bed. The room was different too, sunlight pouring in from stained glass windows, covering the room in shards of colored light.

After several days, Amaya woke to find the room empty, with Abelas nowhere to be seen. Her head throbbed, a welcome reprieve from the days of numbness. Without thinking, she raised her hand to her head to rub her temple and was pleasantly surprised that her body complied with the movement. Carefully, she lifted her head, using her arms to push herself up into a sitting position. She glanced around the room, careful not to move too quickly. It was much smaller than the basement room had been, with a row of ceiling-length stained glass windows covering the wall facing her. There was a small table next to her bed, which itself was fairly large and incredibly soft, the frame and bedposts made of dark sylvanwood. There were doors on the walls to her left and right, and two plain glass windows on the wall behind her. In one corner there was a red chaise lounge, and in another a tall table covered with various herbs and potions, pages of handwritten notes and diagrams hanging on the wall above.

Amaya lifted the covers and turned slowly, hanging her legs over the edge of the bed. She looked down at herself and found her usual armor gone, replaced with a delicate silk nightgown. She felt her skin crawl at the thought that Abelas had removed her clothing. She pulled the top of the nightgown away from her body and looked down--at least she was still wearing her own smallclothes. Amaya’s outrage at her privacy being violated gave her a moment of clarity. She remembered that it had been days since Abelas had taken her from the Well of Sorrows, and that he had kept her here, without explanation, probably drugging her and who knows what else. She needed to find a way out of this place. But first she needed answers.  

She placed her feet on the ground gently, the cold floor beneath her soles sending a chill up her spine. Carefully, she rose from the bed, using one of the bedposts for support. She took one tentative step, then another. Confident that her body could hold her, she let go of the bedpost and walked towards the table in the corner. She was a few steps away when the throbbing in her head turned piercing, like an arrow in her skull. The voices from the Well hit her all at once, the whispers hissing like angry flames. Amaya let out a blood-curdling scream, the pain in her head quickly turning to agony, and she fell to the ground.

Abelas burst into the room. “Fenedhis!” He hissed.

Amaya was curled into a ball on the floor, squeezing her eyes shut and crying out in pain. Abelas ran to her, kneeling next to her as he carefully pulled her up into his arms. Even through the excruciating pain, Amaya fought against him, wriggling in his hold and trying to attack him with a spell. Her hands sent out a few small sparks, but that was it. Her body was weak, incapacitated by the pain, and he was much stronger. In vain she attempted to beat her fists against his chest, her hands making soft tapping noises against his armor.

“Diana panal.” He ordered. “You must calm yourself. You will only make it worse.”

Amaya stilled in his arms, a single frustrated tear sliding down her cheek. Abelas rested her lower body on his thighs, freeing one of his arms. He brought his hand to her head and stroked her silver hair, sending a strong analgesic spell through her scalp. Immediately her muscles began to relax as the piercing pain in her head dulled. She opened her eyes to look up at Abelas, the first time she had seen him clearly since he brought her here. He gazed down at her, his expression cold and impassive as he wiped the tear from her cheek.

Amaya summoned the strength to speak. “Why am I here? What are you doing to me?” She asked.

“I am trying to ensure that the vir’abelasan is not wasted on you. If you even survive.” Abelas said.  

He gathered her up in his arms and stood, carrying her over to the bed and carefully placing her down on the mattress. Amaya trembled, her body suddenly overtaken by chills. Abelas pulled the covers up over her and tucked her in tightly before placing the back of his hand to her forehead. With his other hand he felt for her pulse below her jaw.

She thought she saw his golden eyes flicker with concern for a moment. “E’la ar gelem.” He said quietly. “The vir’abelasan has proven too much for you. It is a poison in your body that you are not strong enough to withstand. It will likely kill you.” He turned to the bedside table to pour a glass of water.

Amaya stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to process the information she had just heard. “I should have let Morrigan drink from the Well.” She said.

Abelas set the pitcher of water back down on the table and whipped around to face Amaya, his hands clenched at his sides. “No.” He said firmly. He narrowed his eyes in contempt.

Amaya turned away from him. She folded her arms in front of her chest and let out a huff through her nose. “At least then she would be the one dying in agony instead of me.” She sighed, frustrated.

Abelas grabbed her chin and turned her head to face him. “That Dun’himelan is not deserving of Mythal’s blessing.” He said, his voice rough and threatening. “Whatever knowledge she has of my people has been perverted over millennia. Our history is little more than a children’s story now.”

His hand still gripped Amaya’s chin, hard enough to hurt. His eyes blazed with a ferocity that sent chills of trepidation down her spine.

“I would die to protect the knowledge of the Well.” Abelas said. “You are now the vessel for that knowledge. It is my responsibility to protect you at all costs. I will do anything I can to ensure that you do not perish.” 

He leaned down, his face inches away from Amaya’s. Her eyes were like pale green lakes, wide and deep under the scrutiny of his gaze. “You will not be foolish. I will not allow you to squander the gift you have been given. You will do as I say or you will die.” He said, each word emphasized.

Something inside Amaya snapped. Anger boiled in her blood, filling her with strength that surged throughout her body. She bolted upright, grasping the hand that held her chin and sending a bolt of electricity through it. Abelas stepped back, hissing in pain as he held his injured hand. Emboldened by the return of her magic, however fleeting it might be, Amaya stood and formed a ball of electricity in her hand. She felt the familiar warm tingling in her palm, heard the sparks buzzing as they danced over her fingers, the smell dry and sharp like the first bolt of lightning before a rainstorm. She held the purple-white orb out towards Abelas, ready to defend herself should he attack.

“Are you threatening me?” She asked. Her tone was sarcastic and venomous. “Because people who threaten me generally don’t live long.”

Abelas let out a dry laugh. “Do you honestly think you could kill me?” He asked. “You could not even hope to injure me in your current state.”

Amaya gazed pointedly at the hand that he was now healing with a spell. “Really.” She said incredulously, more a statement than a question.

Abelas paused for a moment, and Amaya could have sworn she saw him blush. “This is different. My guard was down. I was not prepared to defend myself.”

Amaya smirked.

Abelas continued before she had a chance to speak. “It matters not.” He said. “I am no threat to you. As I said, I cannot let any harm befall you if it is within my power to do so. I was merely stating that if you do not heed my instruction, you will not survive the effects of the vir’abelasan.”

Amaya frowned. The electric orb in her hand fizzled slightly, getting smaller. “So what’s to stop me from escaping?” She asked.

His hand now healed, Abelas knotted his fingers behind his back. He began to pace in a short line in front of Amaya, never taking his eyes off of her. “This place is a temple to Mythal. It is similar to the temple that I guarded.” He said. “However, this temple was used solely by the priests of Mythal to train and study. Specifically, the priests came here to prepare themselves to partake of the vir’abelasan.”

Amaya’s jaw dropped slightly. The lightning ball was almost gone.

“The priests of Mythal studied and trained for years in preparation to become the vessel for Mythal’s blessing. The strongest, most intelligent, most devoted priest would be chosen to drink from the Well when the previous vessel was ready for uthenera.”

Amaya dropped her hand to her side, the electricity spell forgotten. She leaned back against the bed, feeling the weakness slowly creep back into her bones. “That doesn’t answer my question.” She said, more annoyed than angry now.

“Because this place was only for the purest of Mythal’s initiates, it needed to be kept as secure as possible. It is only accessible by Eluvian. There is no other way in or out of the temple.” Abelas answered. “Of course, I have deactivated all of the Eluvians here, so there is no way that you could escape.” He explained. The side of his mouth twitched with the slightest hint of a smirk.

Amaya let out a deep sigh. She rested more of her weight against the bed. “So either I do what you say or I die?” She asked. “And if I do what you say I might die anyway? And there’s literally no way out?”

Abelas nodded.

“Shit.”

“That you were able to summon even a fraction of your magic is a good sign. You may yet live.” Abelas said. He walked towards Amaya. “But for now, you must rest.” He motioned for her to climb back into the bed.

Amaya slumped her shoulders as she sighed, reluctantly acquiescing to his order. She lied down on the bed, pulling the covers up over herself and turning her back to Abelas.

“We will begin training tomorrow. I will attempt to teach you how to control the power of the vir’abelasan.” Abelas said. “It will require all of your strength. Sleep well.” He turned, walking out of the room.

Amaya heard the door lock behind him and groaned. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and whispered prayers to Mythal for protection and guidance. She traced her turquoise-green vallaslin with a finger as she praised and beseeched her patron goddess, though she felt no different after completing her prayers. She wondered if the All-Mother was really gone forever. And if she was, what did that mean for her and the knowledge from the Well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translations from [Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8237548)
> 
> fenedhis (shit, fuck, damn; literally: “wolf penis”)  
> diana panal (stop fighting)  
> e'la ar gelem (it is as I feared)  
> Dun'himelan (Shape shifter; literally: body changer)


	3. Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers in this chapter (just a tiny bit of each):  
> -graphic descriptions of violence  
> -blood
> 
>  
> 
> **UPDATE: Added a few paragraphs to the end of the chapter on 10/23/15.**

Amaya ran through the trees, chasing her halla, Ishta. She had no idea why Ishta was running; she usually never left Amaya’s side. Soon Ishta was too far ahead of her--Amaya could barely see her in the distance. Once she lost sight of the halla she slowed down, relying on her tracking skills instead. She followed Ishta’s tracks through the forest, the trees growing taller and closer together as she went. _Why would Ishta run this far?_ Soon the woods became almost too dense for her to follow Ishta’s tracks; the forest floor was a mess of fallen leaves, tangled roots, and uneven ground. 

Amaya saw light pouring in through the trees from the direction of Ishta’s tracks. She followed it, ending up in a small clearing in the middle of the woods. At the center of the clearing stood a crumbling stone tower, the only remnant of some long-lost city or military base. She thought she saw Ishta’s horns at the top of the tower and quickly started running up the decrepit stairs, being careful to watch her footing. She wondered why Ishta would have come up here on her own; maybe a wayward hunter had captured her?

Amaya reached the top of the tower, but saw no sign of Ishta. She called out to her, using the special call that only she knew, but Ishta did not come out. Amaya walked around the tower, looking into dark corners and finding nothing, save for a few ancient baubles. She was picking up one such treasure when she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye, and turned abruptly towards it.

“Hello?” She called out. There was no response. She squinted, forcing her eyes to focus on the darkness, and saw a figure leaning out from behind a crumbling wall. “Who are you?” She said. “Come out and face me!”

Amaya reached for her staff but found it was gone. Instead, she drew lightning into her palms and took a defensive stance as the figure slowly moved into the light. His hands were raised in front of him so she couldn’t see his face, but he was obviously a shem, dirty and poorly dressed, likely a military deserter.

“Please don’t hurt me!” He said. “I don’t mean you no harm!” He lowered his hands to his chest, revealing his face. 

Amaya’s jaw dropped. She blinked, her eyes growing dark and wide as she recognized the figure before her.

“YOU!” She yelled, pointing her finger at him. “You were the one who attacked me and gave me this!” She pointed to the huge scar curving from her forehead down to her cheek.

The man stared at her, realization striking him as he took in her appearance. He approached her slowly, quivering before her as he kneeled at her feet. “I regret that more than anything I’ve ever done in my miserable life.” He said, looking up at her imploringly. “I am so sorry for what I did.”

Amaya moved forward, stepping on his thigh as she glared down at him. “You’re _sorry_?” She asked. Her voice was cyanide laced with venom. “You’re _sorry_ , after you nearly removed half of my face? You’re _sorry,_ after you found me in the woods, reading by myself, and charmed me into coming with you? You’re _sorry,_ after you tried to kiss me, then told me I was too pretty to have a vallaslin mar my face?”

The man just shook his head, burying his face in his hands as his body rocked with sobs.

Amaya grew louder and louder, stepping on his leg with more force as she continued. “You’re _sorry,_ after you pinned me to a tree, holding a knife to my skin and telling me you would ‘remove’ my vallaslin for me?”

Her voice began to crack. “You’re _sorry,_ after you _dragged your knife_ down half of my face, tearing my skin open, and _laughed_ as I cried and begged you to stop? You’re _sorry,_ even though you would have cut the rest of my face open if I hadn’t sent a lightning bolt through your balls? You’re _sorry,_ when I had to explain to my mother what happened and watch her heart break?”

Tears were streaming down Amaya’s face as she screamed at him. “You’re _sorry,_ after leaving me terribly scarred, physically and mentally, forcing me to relive the worst day of my life every time someone asks me what happened to my face? Making me hate all shems for _your_ crimes? Giving me nightmares that cause me to wake up screaming? You’re fucking _sorry?_ ”

The man looked back up at her with tears in his eyes; she slapped him across the face, her nails leaving behind streaks of red.

“I didn’t know what I was doing!” The man said. “I was drunk off my ass, I had just been fired from my job, and I wasn’t thinking clearly! I was a different man back then. Please, I’ve changed! You have to forgive me!”

Amaya spat in his face. “I don’t have to do anything for you, you piece of filth!”

“I’m begging you, please don’t hurt me! I have a family now! I married a woman from the Alienage, an elf! We have a son together! Without me, they’ll be forced into slavery or worse!” The man’s face was covered in tears. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Amaya’s leg. “I’ll do anything, anything you want, just please be merciful and let me go!”

“What I want is for you to die.” Amaya said. Anger pulsed through her veins, her every muscle fiber tight and burning. She could no longer hold it in, her skin crawling with a fury that needed to be released.  

She kicked him off of her, lightning still ready and waiting in her hands. She advanced on him as he tried to back away, approaching him slowly until he was at the edge of the tower. The wall behind him crumbled and fell to the ground and he almost fell too, regaining his balance at the last moment.

“You think that marrying an elf exonerates you? A woman from the Alienage, living among humans, who probably doesn’t even have a vallaslin? You’re a fool if you think something like that is going to make me change my mind about killing you. I have fantasized about this moment for seven years, and now you’re finally going to get what you deserve.”

Amaya’s eyes were black with rage as she loomed over him. She was ready to give him the final push, sending him to his death, when a dagger suddenly appeared at her feet. She quickly picked it up, turning it over in her hands. It was an ironbark blade, the handle inlaid with mother-of-pearl and onyx. As she examined the intricately carved handle, she recognized the symbol of Mythal in the design. She paused for a moment, appealing to the All-Mother for strength in carrying out her revenge. The dagger began to pulse in her hand, sending a cooling tingle up her arm and throughout her body, calming the storm of fury that threatened to burst through her skin.

Amaya heard the voices from the Well in her head, though this time they spoke as one. **_Killing him is not revenge. His death will not restore the balance of justice._** The words poured from her mind like water, squelching the flames of vengeance that ripped through her heart. She stared at the man, his eyes wide and body shaking with fear, then back to the dagger in her hand. With her violent rage gone, she almost pitied the man, cowering in terror as she stepped closer. She lifted her foot and his hands scrambled for something to hold on to, anything to save him from the fall that awaited him. Instead, he felt her foot crash down on his knee, heard the sound of his kneecap being dislocated. He cried out in agony as he reached for his knee, then stopped when he saw Amaya pointing the dagger at him.

He froze, his eyes never leaving the blade as it drew closer to his face, finally piercing the skin of his forehead. He cried out, wailing from the pain in his knee and his face, begging, pleading. Amaya ignored his cries, slicing through thick layers of skin all the way to the bone as she dragged the blade in a crescent down to his cheek. She dropped the dagger, the serenity of a punishment justly delivered flowing through her. The man screamed, blood pouring through his fingers as he clutched his face, and Amaya turned and walked back towards the stairs. She spoke a prayer to Mythal, thanking her for her guidance as she descended from the tower. When her feet finally touched the grass below, everything vanished in a cloud of smoke.  

It took a moment for her vision to adjust, the bright sunlight hitting her eyes and making her squint. She was outside, but she felt cold stone beneath her feet. She looked around; there were statues everywhere, with small patches of grass and flowers growing in between the large squares of marble. She turned around to see a giant ironwood tree behind her, taller than any tree she had ever seen, with various runes carved all throughout its bark. She figured she was in some sort of courtyard. Surrounding it were rows of marble columns supporting a high roof. They formed a sort of corridor around the courtyard, and she saw a myriad of doors and windows towards the center of the structure. _This must be part of the temple_. She thought.

“The temple!” She said to herself. She turned her head quickly, looking for any sign of her sentinel captor. She walked around the giant tree, examining every corner of the courtyard and the surrounding corridor. When she had made a full circle she stopped, letting out a frustrated huff. She turned to look back up at the tree but was startled to see Abelas standing right in front of her.

“Abelas!” She said. Her voice almost stuck in throat from shock. “Where did you come from? What just happened?” She asked.

He stood with his hands folded behind his back, staring down at her impassively. “You will call me ha’hren, lan-sila.” He instructed. “This was your first lesson. Do you not remember that we were to begin training today?”

Amaya scrunched up her face. “What was the point of putting me through that?” She asked. “It wasn’t even real!”

Abelas continued to look down at her, expressionless. “That is true. You were in the Fade, so it was not real. However, the emotions you felt and the decisions you made _were_ real. You did well, lan-sila. You did not give in to your rage, instead calling on Mythal to guide you. You heeded her guidance, inflicting the same pain on that man that he inflicted on you, and thus bringing about justice. You neither forgave him nor condemned him--a perfect medium.”

Amaya glared up at him, her mouth slanted up to one side as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I passed, then?” She asked.

Abelas nodded.  
  
“So, what’s next?” She asked, trying to sound annoyed. She would never admit it, but she was more than a little interested to find out what else he had in store for her.

\-----

Though her foray into the Fade was relatively short, it still took a lot out of Amaya in her weakened state. Abelas made her lie down, checking her for fever and increased heart rate. When he was satisfied that her health was not in danger, he brought her a tray of food--freshly cut fruit and nuts, flatbread with halla milk cheese and smoked ram meat. When she asked where he had gotten all of it he shook his head, simply encouraging her to eat. Amaya ate voraciously, having had only water and the broth Abelas fed her for the past several days. The food was delicious and she cleaned her plate, only afterwards becoming self-conscious about her lack of propriety. She blushed, wiping her mouth daintily.

“So wait,” Amaya asked, “You were in the Fade with me?”

“Yes and no.” Abelas said. “It was akin to a dream. You entered the Fade through your mind. I linked my mind with yours, so I was able to experience everything that you did.”

Amaya flushed deeper, both embarrassed and angry that Abelas had violated her privacy in such a way. Sensing her ire, Abelas tried to placate her.

“The mind connection only lasted while you were in the dream-state. All my senses were linked to yours, but I could not hear your thoughts, nor feel your emotions.” He said.

Amaya chewed her lip for a minute, pondering. “So how did you know to show me the shem who attacked me?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I simply cast a spell. The spell opened up a window to the Fade in your mind, and sifted through your memories to find that one. It then created a scenario that would force you to make a decision. All I did was observe the results and monitor your body for any illness or injury.” Abelas said.

Abelas stood from the chair he had placed next to Amaya’s bed. He took the tray from Amaya’s lap and placed it on the table, refilling a glass with water and setting it next to the tray, closest to Amaya.

“I will take my leave. You should rest. You did well today.” He said as he walked towards the door.

“Abelas,” Amaya called out to him. He stopped, but did not face her. “Ha’hren,” she amended. He turned to look at her. 

Her voice grew soft. “Will I survive this?” She asked.  
  
“It is beginning to look that way, lan-sila.” Abelas said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha'hren: teacher, wise one  
> lan-sila: female student, pupil
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are incredibly appreciated!!
> 
> Elvhen translations from [Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/)


	4. Night-time Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is later than I promised. It got a bit longer than I anticipated. 
> 
> I'm pretty much flying by the seat of my pants with this story--it started as a self-indulgent idea for me to get the kind of plot I was looking for with a character I needed more of, and I'm overwhelmed that so many of you got interested in the story! I hope it lives up to your expectations. 
> 
> Your feedback has been so great, and I squeal and hide myself in my blankets every time I get a comment from you guys. 
> 
> P.S. Reread Chapter 3, I added a bit to the end. 
> 
> Possible triggers in this chapter:  
> -a teeny tiny bit of blood

Amaya sat in front of the mirror, the candle she brought with her the only light in the otherwise empty room. It had been a few weeks since Abelas started training her--mostly reading ancient texts and meditating, no further practical training--and her headaches had been getting better and less frequent. She had taken to wandering the temple at night a few hours after Abelas sent her to bed in the evening, trying to find more information about the temple and how to get out. The temple was massive, full of long corridors with an endless number of rooms (mostly locked). She wasn’t sure where Abelas slept, or if he even did sleep, but she had yet to run into him during her nocturnal explorations. She found the Eluvian late the night before, and had come back to try and activate it.

She ran her fingers along the mirror’s frame, the intricate carvings seeming to awaken beneath her fingertips. She could feel great power emanating from the Eluvian, but it was weakened somehow, like something was holding it back. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the magic in the mirror, trying to draw it out. She felt the power struggle against its bonds, but she could not release it. Pressing her fingertips to the glass of the Eluvian, she felt it grow warm under her touch. Amaya opened her eyes and saw herself in the mirror, but the image was not her real reflection.

The image in the mirror had both palms pressed against the glass, her eyes closed in concentration. Amaya's reflection was chanting something, her mouth moving slowly and deliberately, but there was no sound, and Amaya couldn’t decipher the words. She pressed her palms to the glass, trying to match her double’s movements, then watched as the image before her flickered before it faded to black. She removed her hands, looking around for the source of the darkness, but saw nothing. When she faced the mirror again it was lit up, glowing a light blue. Even sitting several inches away from the Eluvian, Amaya could feel the intense heat it radiated.

She was reaching her hand out to touch the mirror again when she saw a shadow emerge against the blue light. The shadow grew larger, taking on the form of a person, and Amaya quickly backed away from the mirror, knocking over her candle in the process. The hot wax spilled onto the floor, burning Amaya’s leg. She let out a small whimper as she continued crawling backwards. She felt herself back into a wall and froze--the shadow was stepping out of the mirror. She pulled her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible as the figure emerged from the Eluvian.

In the dark room she could only make out the person’s silhouette, tall, lean, most likely a man. The light from the mirror reflected off his armor as he stepped into the room. Amaya was able to see that he was wearing a hood over his head before he made it through the Eluvian. Once he was fully in the room, the mirror went dark again. _Of course it’s Abelas. Who else would it have been?_ Amaya thought. She squinted, trying to find his outline in the darkened room. She thought she heard the rustle of fabric, the light clink of armor coming towards her, but it could have been her imagination. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness she felt a slight rush of air from her left side, and she let out a gasp as a hand come to rest on her shoulder.

Abelas’ voice rumbled through her whole body when he spoke. “You should not be here, lan-sila.” He said.

Amaya shivered.

“It is apparent now that I should not have trusted you to heed my instruction.” Abelas said. He grabbed Amaya’s hand in his, pulling her up to a standing position, and with his other hand he summoned a ball of magelight.

Amaya looked up at Abelas’ face. His lips were pressed flat, his jaw firmly set. His eyes bored into her with something between disappointment and anger. He wrapped his hand around Amaya’s wrist and led her out of the room. He took her down a myriad of corridors, moving so quickly and making so many turns that Amaya couldn’t keep track of where they were. Abelas stopped when they reached the courtyard, letting go of her arm. He released the ball of magelight into the air and created several more, letting them float high above their heads, illuminating the courtyard with a bright glow. Amaya stared up at them, admiring their simple beauty. Even her mother’s magelight was not as beautiful or effortless as Abelas’.

“Tell me what you were doing.” Abelas said.

Amaya nearly jumped. She had been too absorbed in the beauty of the lights and the way they made the courtyard look like another world. “What do you think I was doing?” Amaya asked. Her tone was annoyed, sarcastic.

Abelas just stared at her, standing in his usual impassive position with his arms behind his back.

Amaya sighed. “Obviously I was trying to find a way out of here.” She said. “Well, I _did_ find a way out, I just couldn’t get it to work.”

“Do you truly believe you could have unlocked the Eluvian, lan-sila?” Abelas asked.

“It wanted me to unlock it. It showed me what to do. I was about to do it, too, until you came bursting in.” Amaya said. “Where did you go, anyway? What were you doing?” She asked.

Abelas answered her question with one of his own. “Where do you think all of the food you eat comes from?” He asked. He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Some of it is grown here on the grounds, yes, and there is a kitchen where I prepare some of your meals. However,” he paused, “most of the food that you eat comes from small farming villages.”

Amaya opened her mouth to protest-- _how could he steal food from poor farmers?_ \--but he cut her off.

“I visit these villages and heal people in exchange for the goods that village produces.” Abelas said. He turned around, pointing to the pack on his back that she hadn’t noticed before. It looked heavy, likely full of food.

Amaya just stared at him, dumbstruck.

“Sometimes a village is plagued by a beast, so I set up magical wards and slay the creature if I can. Or a village will have a young mage in need of tutelage, so I provide lessons.” Abelas said.  

Amaya felt her heart soften a little at his words. “Why would you do that?” She asked.

Abelas gave her a confused look. “We need food and supplies, while those villagers need healing and other magical assistance. It is a simple trade. Is that not how your clan operates?”

Amaya thought of her clan, of her mother. Keeper Deshanna had always tried to interact peacefully with the shemlen, making Clan Lavellan one of the only Dalish clans to do so. She encouraged trade and understanding with shems, though many were wary of the Dalish, especially in small villages where superstition ran rampant. Amaya couldn’t imagine how someone as stoic, imposing, and so obviously Elvhen as Abelas could convince shemlen farmers to trade with him.

“Shemlen are often frightened by the Dalish,” Amaya explained. “The farther you get from the cities, the more the people dislike and distrust elves. Those of us with vallaslin on our faces are seen as little more than monsters.” She slowly brought her hand up to her face, tracing the scar there. Her vallaslin had nearly gotten her killed because of a shemlen’s fear and ignorance. “Why aren’t they afraid of you?” She asked.

Abelas’ lips lifted a little bit, but he did not smile. “The people in these villages have legends about the Elvhen. Long ago, we servants of Mythal saved this group of villages from an attack by the Tevinter Imperium. We had been trading with the shemlen since they arrived, and they have looked upon us favorably ever since. Even after all these centuries, the villagers remember the legends. They admire and respect us.”

Amaya chewed the inside of her cheek. “These villages are nearby?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Relatively so.” Abelas replied. “Don’t get any ideas, lan-sila. We are still miles and miles away from any other people, and the only way to visit the villages is by Eluvian.”

“So where exactly are we then?” Amaya asked. “What country? Or what country are the villages in?”

Abelas tilted his head, looking at Amaya in disbelief that she would even ask such a question. “You know I cannot tell you that, lan-sila.” He said. “All you need to know is that we are in a place where no one can find us, shrouded in magic.”

Amaya groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then can you at least tell me what we’re doing out here?” She stared back up at the floating magelights, their soft glow calming her down a bit.

“Your training is not yet complete--I cannot allow you to leave. What makes you think you are strong enough to leave the temple now?” Abelas asked, stepping towards her.

Amaya looked back at him, now less than a foot away, his face illuminated by the magelights. As Amaya watched the soft glow dance across his face, she admired Abelas' features. His strong nose, his golden eyes, full lips--he was quite a sight to behold. She took in his tall, regal stature, his toned, muscular frame, and those impressive, powerful legs, and realized he was just her type. She had felt an attraction to him since they'd met, but looking at him this way sent a flicker of heat through her chest and down to her core.

“Lan-sila.” Abelas said, startling Amaya from her thoughts. “When I ask you a question I expect an answer.”

Amaya felt a chill go down her spine, causing her skin to pebble with goosebumps. She took a deep breath. “I don’t care about this training.” She said. “You told me I would survive the effects of the vir’abelasan. My headaches have been getting better and are starting to go away. I almost opened the Eluvian. I can do this, whether you allow it or not.”     

“You over-estimate yourself, lan-sila.” Abelas said. “You have still not completely recovered from the vir’abelasan, and your control over the powers of the Well is weak at best.” One of the magelights floated right above him, and she saw his eyes shimmer like molten gold.

“Do you know what this tree is?” Abelas asked, turning his body to point behind him. “This is the oldest living ironwood tree in existence. It was planted by the founders of this temple, Mythal’s first servants. It has stood since the days of Arlathan.”

Amaya looked up at the tree, so tall and wide that it blocked out the moon. Her eyes widened.  

“Do you see the runes carved into its bark?” Abelas asked. “This tree has been imbued with incredibly strong magic. However, your magic must be especially powerful and focused to unlock the power of the tree. Only those who have completed the training required of the vir’abelasan are able to access its magic.”

Amaya crossed her arms in front of her. “I don’t care about some magic tree. I just want to get out of here.” She said.

Abelas glared at her. “How dare you speak to your ha’hren that way!” He said. “Do not interrupt me when I am speaking. If you had let me finish, you would have known that the same type of magic is required to activate the Eluvians here as is needed to unlock the magic of the ironwood tree. If you think you are ready to leave, prove it.”

Amaya let out a huff of air, pushing past Abelas to run her hand along the bark of the ironwood tree. She felt something stir beneath her fingers--old magic, no doubt. It was as if the spirit of the tree was calling out to her. No--calling out to the power of the vir’abelasan within her. She could feel its energy slowly rising and falling, like the steady breathing of deep sleep. She closed her eyes as her fingers traced the runes in the tree, focusing her attention on the voices from the Well. They had begun to sing when she touched the tree, each rune creating a different note in their chorus.

She went slowly at first, unsure which notes went in which order. She walked around the tree, letting her other hand join the first, her pace speeding up as she alternated hands. Finally she grew confident in her abilities, the notes she was hitting making beautiful music in her head. She could almost see each rune, each note, as a different color of light, blending together to form a prism. Feeling the music taking over her body, she pressed two runes at once, one with each hand. The noise that resulted felt like it was splitting her head in two. Her eyes snapped open and she fell back from the tree, clutching her hands to her ears to try and block out the sound. She stumbled backwards, tripping over a tree root and falling at Abelas’ feet.

The noise didn’t abate, and Amaya began to cry as the pain overwhelmed her. It felt like her ears were going to explode, then a white-hot pain shot through them and the pain subsided. When she pulled back her hands she saw they had blood on them. She looked up at Abelas for help; the voices were still singing at an unholy pitch in her head. He said something to her but she couldn’t hear him, his voice sounded like he was underwater. She felt hot tears fall down her face as she tried to convey that she couldn’t hear.

Abelas cast a spell over her and the voices disappeared, as did the pain. Amaya felt a pinching sensation in her ears and her hearing suddenly returned.

“Ma serannas, ha’hren.” She said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

He reached down to help her up, and she felt a sharp pain in her leg as she stood. She had sprained her ankle when she tripped on the tree root and somehow managed to cut her leg open, all on the same side the wax had burned her earlier. She cringed, hopping up on her good leg as she held onto Abelas for support, her arms wrapped around his waist in what almost resembled a hug.

“Sathem, lan-sila.” Abelas replied. Not knowing what to do, he gently placed a gauntleted hand on the small of her back. “Let us go back inside and treat your leg.” He picked Amaya up effortlessly and began walking towards her room. He didn’t point out that he had been right, that she had been wrong, and for that she was grateful.

Amaya looked over Abelas’ shoulder and watched as the magelights slowly faded, bathing the courtyard in darkness.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that was long. As always, comments and feedback are much appreciated ♥


	5. Mamae

“Thena, da’avise.” A familiar voice whispered in Amaya’s ear, gently shaking her to get up.

Without opening her eyes, Amaya could tell it was too early in the morning to be awake. The sun hadn’t fully risen and the backs of her eyelids were still dark.

“Din, mamae. It’s too early, let me sleep.” Amaya whined. She rolled over, pulling the covers up over her head.  

“Amaya, listen to me. You must wake up. We need to get out of here.” Her tone was not that of a concerned mother--it was that of a Keeper protecting her clan from danger.

Amaya rose quickly, trying to get her bearings as she realized she was not in her aravel but in a building, in a room with four walls and a giant bed--her room. She was still at the temple. But then, why was her mother here?

Keeper Deshanna gave an agitated sigh at her daughter’s confused gaze and grabbed Amaya’s arm. “We have to get out of here, now!” She whispered, pulling Amaya towards the door.

They ran quietly through the corridors, with Amaya struggling to avoid running into things in the pre-dawn darkness.

“Abelas has gone to the village, and he left the Eluvian open. This is your only chance to get out of here. We have to leave now, before he comes back.” Deshanna said, looking over her shoulder at Amaya as they ran.

“What do you mean? What’s going on?” Amaya asked, her voice breathless from running.

“Your companions sent me a letter after they left the Temple of Mythal.” Deshanna replied. She was barely winded. “They said that you drank from the vir’abelasan, and that you vanished after escaping from Corypheus.”

Deshanna halted to a stop. They had reached the room with the Eluvian. Amaya bent over, trying to catch her breath, but kept her gaze on her mother. She stared at Deshanna as if she had gone mad. Whether Deshanna noticed or not, she didn’t react, continuing with her explanation.

“I traveled to Skyhold as quickly as I could. When I arrived, your advisors showed me the letter you had written to them, explaining how you came to be here, with this _Abelas_.” Her voice was low but urgent. Deshanna pressed her lips flat.

Amaya stood up and looked around. The mirror was in the same corner of the room as it had been before, glowing as it had been when Abelas traveled through it, a swirling blue light reflecting from its surface.

“But how did you find me? How did you get here?” Amaya asked, turning back to face her mother.

Deshanna gave her a knowing smile. “Stubborn as always, I see. I know you won’t leave until you get your answers.”

As if to prove her mother’s point, Amaya crossed her arms in front of her chest, canting her hip to one side.

“I’d heard stories about a temple where Mythal’s chosen would train and study, hidden from the world, only accessible by magic, whose guardians traded magic favors with shemlen farmers in exchange for food.” Deshanna said.

Amaya just stared at her in disbelief. Neither of them noticed the light from the Eluvian start to dim.

“I heard from another clan that a strange elf had come to the villages again, so I traveled to one of the villages and waited for Abelas. Then, when he arrived, I took the path that he had come from and discovered an Eluvian in the woods. I went through it and ended up here.”  

Deshanna walked over to the Eluvian, turning her head to look at Amaya. “I found you as quickly as I could. Abelas will be returning any moment now; we have to leave.”

Amaya could scarcely believe what she was hearing. After a month in this place, she was finally free? She could actually go home? _No. Not home. Back to Skyhold._ Or was that home? She wasn’t sure anymore.

“If you went to Skyhold, why didn’t you bring any of my companions with you?” Amaya asked, quirking an eyebrow at her mother. She found it rather unlikely that her companions would pass on an opportunity to help find her. Unless...she didn’t mean as much to them as she had thought?

Deshanna turned around, her gaze falling on the floor. “I didn’t tell your companions where I was going. Amaya…da’avise...I’m not going to bring you back to Skyhold.”

Amaya’s jaw dropped. She glared at her mother. “What? Why not? The Inquisition needs me! I need to take down Corypheus! I’m the only one with the knowledge of the Well of Sorrows, I’m the only one who can possibly beat him!”

Deshanna reached out and grabbed Amaya’s wrist, pulling her towards the Eluvian, which had grown considerably darker. “We must leave, now. We can discuss this when we are far away from here.”

Deshanna reached out to put her hand through the Eluvian, but instead she hit the glass of the mirror. “Fenedhis!” She hissed, pressing her forehead to the glass.

Amaya’s eyes went wide as the Eluvian began to glow again. She took her mother’s hand and pulled her back, watching as a familiar shadow darkened the surface of the mirror. After a few moments, Abelas stepped through, carrying a large sack of food. He almost dropped it at the sight of the two women. Instead, he set it down gently, stepping towards them. Deshanna squeezed Amaya’s hand.

“Lan-sila, what is the meaning of this?” Abelas asked. His voice was harsher and louder than Amaya had ever heard before. “Who is this woman? How did she get here?”

Deshanna moved between Abelas and her daughter. “I am her mother, Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan. I heard the stories about a strange elf bartering with shemlen villagers, like in their legends. I waited for you in the village and found the Eluvian you traveled through. I am here to bring my daughter home.”

Abelas’ face fell into a scowl. He held his chin in his hand as he paced in front of the mirror. “Home, you say?” He asked. “Not back to the Inquisition? To Skyhold?” He stopped his pacing to look at Deshanna. 

“Yes, _home_.” Deshanna said, raising her chin high. “The Inquisition has taken too much from my daughter. She sealed the Breach, which should have been enough, but her foolishness led her to drink from the vir’abelasan. Now I’ve come to take her back to her clan, where she belongs, where I can protect her.”

Amaya felt her heart leap at the thought. _Home. With my clan. Where I belong._ It had been so long, almost a year since she had left home to go to the Conclave. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She recalled nights under the stars, sitting around the campfire listening to Ha’hren telling legends of the People. She thought of days without paperwork and council meetings, tending the halla with Fallani, practicing magic with her mother and the Second, hunting trips with Touren and the others.

 _Touren._ Oh, how she missed Touren. He was like her big brother, though they were only a few months apart. Raised together by their single parents, they were inseparable. Amaya loved nothing more than dragging Touren along on her “adventures,” and he trained as a two-handed warrior so that he could protect her when she got too reckless. Some of her happiest moments were spent curled up with Touren, reading stories to him under the glow of a magelight until she fell asleep against his chest. _Creators_ , to see Touren again would make her happier than she’d been in ages.

Abelas had walked around her mother to get closer to Amaya, though he kept his distance. “Lan-sila, you know that you are not ready to go out into the world.” He said. “The power of the Well is still too strong for you--it will overpower you if you leave.” His eyes bored straight into hers, silently pleading with her.

Deshanna pushed both hands against Abelas’s chest, trying to shove him away from Amaya. “I can take care of my daughter. I know all the legends about Mythal and I am skilled in the ancient magic of our People--I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Abelas’ eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at Deshanna. Amaya felt him draw a considerable amount of mana, heard the sizzle of a force spell being activated within his hands.

“What you know of Mythal are merely fairy stories, told by _my_ People to their children to help them sleep at night. You know nothing of the real Mythal.” He almost spat. “And your magic is nothing compared to mine. The true art of my People’s magic has been lost to time.”

Deshanna huffed, summoning ice to her fingertips as she prepared to defend herself against Abelas. Everything went quiet and still, as if time itself had stopped for a moment. In the silence, Amaya could hear raindrops falling on the roof. It must have started raining. Wind howled through the trees and a loud clap of thunder startled all of them, causing Abelas and Deshanna to drop their spells. Amaya took the chance to stand in front of Abelas, looking up at him warily.

“Lan-sila.” Abelas’ voice was steady, calm. “You know that you are not ready. Even now, the power of the vir’abelasan still fights against you. I am the only one with the knowledge and the skill to help you. This is the only place you will be safe.”

Amaya just stared at Abelas, jumping a little as another round of thunder clapped outside. As much as she hated to admit it, something inside her truly believed him. Despite his cold exterior and occasionally harsh methods, Amaya knew in her gut that Abelas would not let anything happen to her. He had nursed her back to health; he was taking care of her, teaching her how to use her new power. Even though he was likely only protecting her as the vessel for the Well, she trusted him, and the voices from the Well whispered their agreement. She turned to look at her mother.

Deshanna rushed towards Amaya, placing her hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “You must trust me, da’lath. Your mother knows what’s best for you. Don’t you think I can protect you?”

Amaya felt guilt well up in her chest, making her heart sink heavy like a stone into her gut. “I do, mamae, of course I do. But this is something much bigger and more complicated than you or I could possibly understand.”

Amaya closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t leave with you. Not now. Even if I did leave, I need to go back to the Inquisition. I need to help them stop Corypheus.”

Deshanna looked back at her, eyes narrowed and glaring. She dropped her hands from Amaya’s shoulders and crossed her arms tightly across her chest, gripping her own shoulders as if staving off the cold. Deshanna lowered her gaze to the ground and Amaya watched her mother’s expression falter, tears falling down her cheeks.

Amaya felt hot tears stinging her own eyes and tried to blink them away. “As much as I want to go home with you, back to the clan, I need to stay and finish this first.” She spoke slowly, afraid her voice would break and betray her.

“I’ve seen what the future looks like if Corypheus wins. You...you don’t want to know how terrible it is. If I go with you, there will be no one to stop him. That is, if I even survive the power of the Well. If there is any way to stop Corypheus, I have to do it, and if there’s any way I can do that, I have to stay here.”

Deshanna rushed forward, pulling Amaya into her arms as she sobbed.

“Amaya, please...I can’t bear the thought of you being trapped here with...him.” Deshanna turned her head towards Abelas.

Abelas watched them, his expression impassive, his gaze never leaving Amaya.

“Abelas saved me. He has protected me and kept me alive. I’m not leaving.” Amaya held Deshanna tightly against her. “Ar lath ma, mamae.”

Deshanna pulled back from Amaya, gripping her arms and gazing at her, cheeks stained with tears. “Ar lath ma, da’avise. I...I will leave you be. If you promise that you will be okay here. You are my only child, you are everything to me.”

“I promise, mamae. I’ll be fine.” Amaya smiled at her mother, unable to stop the tears falling down her own cheeks.

“I know. I always forget how strong you are.” Deshanna let Amaya go and walked towards the Eluvian. She pushed her hand through the mirror, turning to look back at her daughter.

“Tuelanen ama na, da’vhenan.” Deshanna said.

“Dar’eth shiral, mamae.” Amaya said. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together as her body shook.  
  
Deshanna stepped through the mirror, her eyes never leaving Amaya. When she had completely disappeared, Amaya fell to her knees, nothing but the sound of the storm outside and her own sobs filling her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thena: awaken/wake up  
> da'avise: little flame  
> din: no  
> da'lath: little love  
> tuelanan ama na: Creators protect you  
> dar'eth shiral: travel safely
> 
> Elvhen translations from [Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061)


	6. The Maze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I apologize for the loooooooooooooooooong wait. I've been busy, sick, tired, and my muse took a bit of a vacation. I didn't proofread this because I wanted to get it up tonight so I'll proof it tomorrow and correct it if necessary. 
> 
> More is coming VERY SOON, I promise! <3 Thank you for sticking with me!

Light flashed behind Amaya’s eyes; the ground beneath her knees was suddenly soft and damp. When her vision returned, she saw Abelas staring down at her. She looked around; they were in the courtyard. It was bathed in morning sunlight, not a drop of rain to be seen. A slight breeze chilled the tears that were slowly dripping down Amaya’s cheeks.

“Abelas?” She asked. “Why are you… what are we… ” She stood, clenching her hands into fists in front of her. “No… no no no no!” She said. “You didn’t… That wasn’t…”

Amaya quickly closed the distance between herself and Abelas, shoving his chest as hard as she could. He barely flinched. The sun behind him nearly blinded her as she glared at him with watery eyes.

“How dare you!” She yelled. “How could you use my memories of my mother for one of your stupid tests?” 

Abelas frowned. “Lan-sila, I didn’t-”

Amaya’s fist colliding with his jaw stopped him mid-sentence. Before she had a chance to throw another one he grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm just to the point where it started to hurt.

“Listen to me.” Abelas said. “As I told you before, I do not control what you encounter during these tests. I cast the spell and observe the results. The magic works on its own to create the situations in your mind.”

“Screw you and your fucking spells!” Amaya shouted, trying to yank her arm away. “I can’t believe I _trusted_ you! I chose to stay with _you_ , over my _own mother!_ What in the Void is wrong with me?”

Fresh tears streamed down Amaya’s cheeks and her lip quivered ever so slightly, betraying her otherwise scathing expression. After a moment Amaya stopped struggling, letting her arm dangle loosely in Abelas’ hold as she let out a desperate sob. Her whole body went limp and she slumped forward, Abelas catching her just in time. He tried to help her stand but she was dead weight in his arms, her only movement the rise and fall of her chest as she sobbed.

Carefully, Abelas lowered them both to the ground, kneeling with Amaya. He pulled her towards him, cradling her against his chest as he stroked her hair.

“Ir abelas, da’len.” He whispered against the top of her head. She continued to sob, rocking gently. Abelas started humming one of the songs he had sung to her when she was suffering from the effects of the Well. Hearing it now gave Amaya a sense of familiarity, of something not quite like home--but close. Her sobs gradually slowed and she pulled her head back to look at Abelas, still enclosed in his arms. He stopped humming and wiped the tears from her face with one hand.

“Da’len, I had no idea that the spell would bring forth such images. I...am truly sorry that the vir’abelasan tested you in this way.”

Amaya stared at Abelas, her mouth dropping open slightly as she realized he was no longer maintaining his stoic expression. His eyes were wide with compassion, possibly regret, and his nose was wrinkled in concern.

“I miss her so much.” Amaya said, her voice soft and sad. She lowered her head, gazing down at her legs. “I just wish it had been real, that I could see her again.”

Abelas pressed his lips together. His brow crinkled slightly. “There is something I must show you.”

Amaya quirked an eyebrow at the sentinel. Without a word, Abelas rose from the ground, bringing Amaya with him. He released her from his arms to take her hand in his, leading her towards the outer wall of the temple. She followed silently, wiping the remaining tears from her face with her free hand.

They walked wordlessly for several minutes. He led her along the high stone wall until they reached the far edge of the temple complex--a corner where two ivy-covered outer walls met. A wolf statue stood in front of them--the same kind that guards Dalish settlements and ancient Elvhen structures--only this statue featured a dragon flying overhead. Amaya was about to protest that she didn’t come all this way to see a statue when Abelas walked behind the statue. He reached up to push some ivy vines away from the wall, revealing a small doorway.

Amaya walked through the hidden opening and Abelas followed. They were in a garden of some sort, with green hedges all around that towered above their heads. She turned around to stare at Abelas, too surprised to form words. His expression was stoic, though Amaya thought she saw a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. He walked in front of her and took her hand again, nodding his head in the direction that they were going. Amaya followed diligently, and after several turns back and forth through the hedges, she realized they were in a maze.

She tried to commit the order of the turns to memory, but there were too many to keep track of. Whatever Abelas wanted to show her, it wasn’t something she could find on her own. Amaya wondered briefly if the maze was his doing, or the ancient sentinels who lived here before. Either way, they must have been under a spell, to stay so straight and even without a gardener to trim them.

After what seemed like an eternity, the maze gave way to two shorter rows of hedges running parallel to each other in a long, straight line. At the end of the hedges was a giant round reflecting pool, and standing behind the pool was a giant Eluvian, at least twice the size of the Eluvians Amaya had seen before. When they reached the reflecting pool, the Eluvian began to glow a pale pink.

Still holding her hand, Abelas ushered Amaya into the reflecting pool. Her feet sunk into the shallow water, yet they didn’t get wet. Abelas released Amaya’s hand and urged her to move forward. She took small, hesitant steps, unsure what to expect. Her experience with ancient Elvhen pools of water had not been exactly pleasant, to say the least. With each step she took she felt her body grow warmer. The warmth enveloped and carried her, and her apprehension slipped away into a glowing calm.

A cloud of pink light from the Eluvian surrounded Amaya, transforming into a mist as it swirled around her. She turned to look for Abelas and found he was standing just out of reach at the edge of the pool. He gestured towards the Eluvian, his face hazy through the mist. He held his hand up, palm flat and facing out as if he was pressing it to something. Amaya understood and pressed her hand to the surface of the mirror. It seemed to vibrate with energy, sending little pulses through her skin. The mist thickened into a dense fog, pressing against Amaya and clinging to her skin. Her vision went black and she let out a choked gasp. She heard Abelas’ voice, muffled by the fog.

“Tel’gela. Think about where you want to go, the person you want to see. Focus on that image. Even though you can’t see me, I am with you, da’len.”

Though she didn’t understand what was happening, Amaya took a deep breath and thought of Clan Lavellan, of their camp in the Free Marches where she had last seen everyone. She thought of Touren, his goofy smile and bright eyes. And she thought of her mother, the most important person in her life--though at times, the most annoying and insufferable. Amaya could only hope to one day possess the effortless grace and wisdom that Keeper Deshanna embodied; her heart ached with the thought.

In an instant Amaya felt her stomach rise up into her chest, as if she were falling from a great height. She instinctively squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, but as soon as the feeling began, it was over. Amaya opened her eyes, expecting to find only blackness. Instead, she found herself at the edge of a forest. She turned around, bewildered, and let out a high-pitched scream, almost passing out from shock. Several yards away, Clan Lavellan was busy going about their daily routines. Amaya recognized her aravel, next to Touren’s as usual, arranged in a circle with all of the others.

It was late morning, and the hunters were just returning from a trip. They carried with them a few rams, several nugs, and a bogfisher. She saw Touren at the head of the group, a ram slung over his shoulders, and ran to him.

“Touren! I can’t believe it’s you! I’ve missed you so much!” She cried excitedly, reaching out to wrap her arms around him.

He didn’t react, didn’t even seem to notice her, so she pulled back.

“Very funny, lethallin. Pretend like you don’t see me because I’ve been gone so long. I know you’re cross with me, but it’s not my fault, you know.”

Still Touren didn’t react, he just kept walking towards camp, almost barreling straight through Amaya.

“He can’t hear or see you.” Abelas’ voice whispered softly, though it surrounded her, as if he were speaking directly into her mind. “You aren’t really there, da’len. This Eluvian allows you to travel anywhere, but only your spirit is transported.”

A deep ache formed in her chest. “So none of this is real? It’s all another Fade trick of yours?” 

“No, da’len. What you’re seeing is real, but you aren’t really there. This is what your clan is doing right at this moment--you are simply there as an observer.”

Amaya let out a heavy sigh. Still, this was better than nothing--more than she could have dreamed of, even. She followed Touren into camp, watching as he set the ram down in the food tent before walking over to his aravel. He greeted his father, who must have stayed back this hunt. He congratulated Touren on leading his first hunt and being so successful, and Amaya realized Touren must be preparing to take over his father’s position as lead hunter.

After a quick hug with his father, Touren threw off his dirty shirt and started walking towards a nearby creek. Amaya followed close behind, admiring how much stronger he had gotten in the months that she’d been gone. He had bigger, well-defined muscles where before he’d been slim but toned. Touren had written to Amaya a few times, saying that he wished he could join the Inquisition and fight alongside her, but his father and the Keeper both forbade it. _He must have gotten stronger to convince them._ She thought, unable to keep her eyes off his sculpted physique. 

She followed Touren through camp, watching as everyone stopped to welcome him back and congratulate him on a successful hunt. They passed Ha’hren, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick as he told the children one of his stories. She saw Fallani tending the halla and felt a pang of longing for Ishta, wondering how she was doing back at Skyhold. The halla was like a sister to her--they were raised together, and Ishta went with her everywhere.

Towards the edge of camp they passed the artisans and craftspeople, creating items for the clan as well as wares to sell. Right before they reached the water, Amaya stopped cold when she heard a familiar voice. “Touren! Where do you think you’re going without greeting me first?”

“Ir abelas, Keeper Deshanna, I didn’t see you!” Touren said quickly, bowing his head.

Amaya smiled at the look her mother gave him, a look she knew all too well--eyes hard and narrowed but with a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. Amaya called it her “trying to scold but can’t help being amused” look. When Touren realized he wasn’t going to be yelled at, he smiled back at Deshanna--that wide, goofy grin that Amaya had missed so much.

“You seem distracted as of late, da’len.” Deshanna said, her tone that of a concerned mother.

Touren’s smile turned mournful, his wide eyes shining. “I’m worried about Amaya. I miss her, and I just hope she’s okay.”

Deshanna stepped closer to the other elf, and even though he was about a foot taller than her she pulled him down into a hug, resting his head against her shoulder. “Me too, da’len. We all feel that way. We must pray to the Creators to watch over her.”

Touren clenched his fists. “I’m tired of praying!” He said, exasperated. “I should have gone with her, I should have been there to protect her. I can still go--she needs me, mamae!” It wasn’t often that Touren slipped and called Deshanna “mamae” as he had done when they were younger. Only in times of great duress did he forget to catch himself, though this time he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Listen to me; we need to trust in Amaya. She is strong, iovru. Our da’avise can take care of herself.” Deshanna said quietly. Her words soothed Touren’s anxiety and he let himself relax into her hold.

Amaya’s heart ached in the best possible way as she gazed at the two people she loved more than anything in the world. She felt the familiar sting in her nose and tried not to cry, but it was no use. Her vision blurred as silent tears began to fall, and she closed her eyes to blink them away. When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the garden with Abelas. She quickly wiped her tears away and turned to face him.

“I wish I could have let you stay longer,” He said sadly, “but my magic only allows me to keep the portal open for a short time.”

Amaya rushed towards Abelas and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you.” She said softly. “Even before I came here, I hadn’t seen them in almost a year. Since this whole Inquisition thing started. I thought I didn’t care, that I was happy to finally be out on my own. But I missed them more than I ever thought I would.”

Abelas was taken aback by her embrace, though he managed to respond with a gentle pat on the back. “Sathem.” He replied, “It has been a very long time since I’ve had anyone to miss. I had forgotten what it feels like.”

Amaya released him from her hold, gazing up at him with a smile that could melt an archdemon’s heart. “Can we do this again?” She asked, her voice full of hope like a child asking for sweets.

Abelas gazed at the ground in front of him. “The magic is powerful and draining, and this place is ancient. It is not possible to perform the transportation often, but I promise I will bring you here again.”

He risked a glance at Amaya’s face. She was beaming, her entire being lit up like a full moon. Abelas inhaled sharply, turning on his heel and walking back over to the maze. “We should leave. We’ve lost half a day of training already.” He said curtly.

Amaya took no notice of his tone. Her head and heart were full after seeing her family. She practically skipped as she followed Abelas towards the maze, stealing a glance back at the Eluvian before it disappeared behind the hedges again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback and kudos are greatly appreciated! ♥
> 
> Elvhen translations from Project Elvhen.
> 
> Ir abelas: I'm sorry  
> Tal'gela: Don't be afraid  
> iovru: bear cub  
> da'avise: little flame  
> Sathem: You're welcome


	7. Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is worth all the waiting, I hope!
> 
> With art from the amazing [swevenfox](swevenfox.tumblr.com)! (See below).

Amaya opened her eyes and stared at Abelas. He was sitting cross-legged in front of her, his eyes closed and hands resting on his knees. His chest rose and fell slowly, like calm ocean waves. Amaya was supposed to be mirroring his pose, but her form lacked his easy grace and she found herself unable to concentrate.

“Arrrrgh!” She groaned, throwing up her hands. “I can’t do this!” She gave a loud huff and flopped backwards to lie down in the grass.

“Yes you can.” Abelas replied. He stayed seated across from Amaya, his expression serene. “Just focus on one voice, a voice that you’re familiar with, that you could recognize anywhere, that comforts you and makes you feel at peace.”

Amaya paused, her face falling. She thought of her mother, whom she had only seen for a short time several days earlier. She could still see her mother’s face and hear her voice, though she hadn’t been able to speak to or embrace her.

She took a deep breath, sitting back up and resuming the meditative position. “Okay.” Amaya said. She closed her eyes and imagined Deshanna’s voice--angry when she was being scolded, laughing when she was happy, soft when she was sad.

“Now slowly open your mind to the voices from the vir’abelasan. As they speak to you, focus on the familiar voice. Try to pull out that voice from the rest and listen only to that voice.” Abelas intoned.

Amaya tried to do as Abelas said, opening her mind to the voices. It had taken the past several weeks to be able to silence them, and now he was asking her to invite them back in. Cautiously, she searched her mind for the connection. When she found it it was like a bolt of electricity shooting through her consciousness. She began to push through it, only to find that the pain grew more intense the harder she pushed. Instead she stopped, letting her mind float in the aether between consciousness and unconsciousness.

In that in-between, that nothingness, the voices were less than whispers, soft as a distant wind. She couldn’t even tell that they were voices, much less discern her mother’s among them. Amaya sensed an opening, one that might not cause so much pain to travel through. She dove down deep into the aether, flowing through the entrance to her consciousness as if she were swimming, though in reality it was all a visual representation of the process going on in her head. Amaya found the connection to the voices again and gently guided herself into it, this time with much less pain.

When she reached the other side the cacophony of voices was deafening. She was about to give up but she remembered Abelas’ advice and focused on her mother. Deshanna’s warm, lyrical voice came to Amaya, separating itself from the others like a single thread freeing itself from a tapestry. In her mind Amaya reached for that thread, pouring all of her concentration into the sound of Deshanna’s voice, and soon the fabric of voices from the vir’abelasan unraveled. For the first time, Amaya could make out their message as it resonated through her mother.

“You have much to learn before you will be ready for the power of the Well. You must be strong, brave, and determined. You need to gain control of your primal emotions in order to succeed. We will be with you, but you are not yet skilled enough for us to help you. There will be many challenges ahead, but you have the capability to conquer them.”

Amaya felt her control loosen, the single thread slipping from her grasp. She heard the blaring dissonance of the voices for a second, then an absence of sound, like water trapped in her ears. She opened her eyes and found Abelas staring intensely at her.

“You did it, didn’t you? You heard the voice?” He asked.

Amaya nodded, too exhausted and mentally drained to respond with words.

“You have done well. Now, do it again.” Abelas commanded.

Amaya shook her head, making a noise of protest in her throat.

Abelas glared at her. “You will do it again. We have only just begun this exercise, and you will practice until the end of the day. There is another hour until we lose the daylight, lan-sila.”

Amaya inhaled sharply, regaining a bit of her energy. “I will not do that again. That took too much effort and it hurt too much, I need time to recover.” She replied, her tone clipped.

A muscle in Abelas’ jaw twitched. “You must complete the exercise again while it is still fresh in your mind, so that you can avoid the mistakes you made this first time and improve upon them. Your mind is more flexible at this moment--if you wait, you will be going back to the beginning again.”

Amaya crossed her arms in front of her. “Well I don’t care, I’m not doing it again.” She got up and walked across the courtyard, towards the hallway that led to her room. “I’m going to go lie down.”

“You will do no such thing.” Abelas replied. “If you do not come back right now and complete this training exercise, I will have to punish you.”

Amaya turned back to face him. “Oooh, I’m so scared, what are you going to do, lock me in my room? What a terrible punishment! I’ll be so miserable, not being able to go wherever I want. Oh wait...that’s already happened.” Amaya said mockingly, adding a sarcastic laugh for effect.

Abelas stood, crossing the courtyard in just a few strides to stand in front of Amaya. He stared down at her, nostrils flaring.

“I could put you into uthenera, and when you wake the world as you know it will have been gone for hundreds of years. And I will be there, to resume your training. No matter what happens in the outside world, this place will remain, and we will remain with it.”

Amaya’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

Abelas chuckled bitterly. “Being an immortal guardian teaches one incredible patience, as well as the ease with which lessons are learned after a few hundred years in suspended sleep.”

Amaya’s hand flew almost of its own accord, slapping Abelas flat across the face. “I hate you!” She screamed. “I hate this place, I hate this vir’abela-bullshit, and I hate Mythal for creating this fucked up ‘power’ in the first place! I wish you would just fucking die already!”

Abelas’ face was still as stone. “Do you wish to kill me, lan-sila? Let us see you try.”

\-----

Several minutes later they were just outside the temple walls, at the edge of the forest. Abelas stood with his back against the temple wall. Amaya stood about a hundred feet in front of him, bow and arrow in hand.

The moment seemed to last forever; her bow was drawn, arrow nocked and ready to be fired, blood thundering in her ears. She aimed carefully, steadying her hands. With bated breath she released the arrow, watching as it hit her intended mark. 

Abelas said nothing, just stared impassively at her. She put down her bow and started walking towards him, her heart threatening to break through her ribcage. He didn’t move, just stood against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. She wondered if he was angry with her, if she had finally pushed him over the edge. After a few more steps she was standing right in front of him, staring up into his deep, golden eyes. She straightened her back and pushed out her chest.

“I missed on purpose.” Amaya said. She tried to sound aloof, confident, but the anxiety in her voice was apparent.

Abelas looked briefly to his right, finally acknowledging the arrow less than an inch from his face. The arrow had almost skimmed his cheek in its flight, instead grazing his hood, snagging the fabric before lodging in the soft clay brick behind him. He turned his gaze back to her.

“Why did you miss, lan-sila?” Abelas asked. “Did you not say that you hated me, that you wished me dead? I gave you the opportunity to shoot me as I stood defenseless, and yet your arrow did not so much as graze my skin. What stopped you?”

“It would have been too easy to kill you like that. I wanted more of a challenge. Besides, if I kill you, then I’m stuck here, aren’t I?” She replied.

Abelas laughed, a dry, mirthless sound. Amaya reached up to remove the arrow but Abelas grabbed her wrist, holding it tightly between them.

“Do you honestly believe that if your arrow had struck me, I would be dead?” He asked.

“I’m an excellent archer.” Amaya replied, trying to pull her arm from his grip. “I can kill a man with a single arrow from 50 yards away.”

“I am no ordinary man.” Abelas said, his voice thick. “It is nearly impossible that you could have hit me, much less do me any serious bodily harm. I have hundreds of years of training and experience that far exceeds your own. Why do you think I did not flinch when your arrow flew so close? I saw the trajectory of the arrow before you even fired it.”

Amaya let out a frustrated groan, still trying to free her hand from his hold. “Then why in the Void did you tell me to shoot you?” She asked.

“I wanted to see if you would follow through with your threats. You have more than answered that question.” Abelas replied. He let go of her wrist and she turned, stomping away from him.

“Amaya.” He said. The first time he had ever spoken her name. His voice was calm, level, but she sensed a certain danger hiding just beneath the surface.

She stopped, bringing her hands up to the sides of her head and letting out a loud huff. “What? Your stupid little lesson is over. I’m done.”

“You are not finished until I say you are finished. Come retrieve the arrow, lan-sila.” Abelas said.

Amaya walked back over to Abelas, stopping only a few inches in front of him. She looked up at his face, surprised to see a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. The sun was setting, and it drew a shadow across the lower half of his face, bathing the rest of it in cool evening light. 

“I’m glad you find this so amusing.” She said flatly.

“I am merely pleased to learn that you are not as hopeless as I thought.” Abelas said. The smirk on his face grew.

Amaya narrowed her eyes at him. Was he actually making a joke?

“You did well today, Amaya. You considered the consequences of your actions rather than acting on impulse and emotion alone.” Abelas said. “Or perhaps you do not hate as much as you say?”

He was smiling now, an actual smile that traveled up to his eyes, giving them a slight sparkle and softening his whole face. Amaya couldn’t help the warm feeling that bloomed in her chest and traveled up to her cheeks at the sight. She stood staring at him for a minute, admiring the image that she may never get to see again. She reached up to grab the arrow, but Abelas’ hood was in the way. Carefully, she trailed her fingers along the edge of his hood, waiting for him to stop her. The smile on his face waned a bit, but he gave no other reaction.

Amaya slowly began pulling down Abelas’ hood, her hand grazing his cheek as she did so, and she lingered there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin. His eyes widened as he held her gaze, but he stayed still and silent. She pulled the garment down farther, her hand never losing contact with his face, and let out a small gasp when his hair was revealed. The sides of his head had been shaved smooth. Abelas’ mane was the purest white, long and plaited down the center of his head, extending down to his shoulder blades. Amaya longed to run her fingers through it, to see if it was as silky as it looked.

She lowered the cowl completely and felt a flicker of heat drift down her body as she admired his chiseled features, always partially hidden until now. With his hood out of the way, she knew she should just retrieve the arrow and leave. Instead, she pulled her hand back to rest on Abelas’ cheek, the warmth she’d felt before suddenly electrified. To her surprise he leaned into her touch, letting her stroke his skin gently with her thumb as he tilted his head down towards her. She stood on her toes and tilted up to meet him, their eyes sending a thousand wordless messages between them as they gazed at one another, only a few millimeters apart.

Amaya could taste Abelas’ breath as it fanned over her lips, like honey and elfroot, and she realized she hadn’t been breathing at all. She felt the heat flowing through her veins, growing hotter as it reached her center, causing her heart to flutter. Tentatively, she lifted her lips towards his, expecting him to object. In an instant he had closed his eyes and closed the distance between them, his mouth pressed to hers in a feather-light kiss. She reciprocated, her eyes fluttering shut as she slowly moved her lips against his. Her mind clouded over, all of her senses dulled except for him, the feeling of his kiss sending electricity down her spine.

Abelas wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly against him as he kissed her more deeply. Amaya moaned softly and returned the gesture, all anger and frustration dissolving in the heat between their lips. After a minute Abelas pulled back, quickly pushing Amaya away. He still stood against the wall, his chest heaving as he turned his gaze to the ground.

“Retrieve the arrow, Amaya.” He said, struggling to catch his breath.

Amaya stared at him, her cheeks and lips flushed from the kiss and a dazed look in her eyes. She stepped forward again, trying to read Abelas’ expression, but he was stoic as ever. Amaya gently extracted the arrow from the wood, careful not to cut Abelas’ cheek as the arrowhead slid past his face. She held the arrow in front of her for a moment, her mind wandering as she stared at the weapon.

Abelas turned and began walking back inside the temple. “I will see you tomorrow.”

Amaya stood there, arrow in hand, gazing after Abelas until he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image by the amazingly talented and wonderful to work with [swevenfox](swevenfox.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://swevenfox.tumblr.com/post/138597317166/chapter-illustration-for-cullenswaifu-of-their)
> 
>  


	8. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little explicit (finally). Yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments, kudos, and general positive vibes! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my random, self-indulgent fic.
> 
> I really didn't mean to take this long to post the next chapter, but things have been really busy for me lately and it's hard for me to have the headspace to write after long days at work. I hope this summer will prove less busy and I'll be able to update more often. Truthfully it takes me a really long time to write even when I'm actively working on a chapter, so that just adds to the issue. Anyway thank you for sticking with me and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic!

Amaya returned to her room to find dinner waiting for her. She sat down at the small table and poked around at her food. Though she should have been starving after such a taxing day, she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Abandoning her uneaten meal, Amaya took off her training clothes and slid into bed. She kept replaying the events of the day in her mind, trying to sort them out. The explanation was simple, of course. Amaya had allowed her anger towards Abelas to bubble over. Rather than release her frustrations through violence, she tried to relieve the tension through another outlet. Abelas must have been doing the same. Why else would he have kissed her?

Her heart was still racing from the kiss, adrenaline and hormones coursing through her. She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of his skin as she stroked his cheek. _How could someone so cold and distant feel so soft and warm?_ The taste of his breath as his lips hovered over hers--so sweet, so pure. The way his hair shone like cut crystal woven into silk. She thought of the way he’d said her name, the way it rolled off his tongue like cool water, sending a chill down her spine. Amaya’s veins filled with heat at the memory of his hands around her waist, the pull of his fingertips on her hips. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the unyielding press of his armor against her body as he held her to him, the heat from his skin palpable even through the metal barrier. Fire pooled between her legs at the thought of his lips on hers, their mouths melding and breaking with the sweet push and pull of their kiss, crashing against each other like waves upon the sand. Her sex throbbed, swollen and needy, and she squeezed her thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the ache.

The kiss had ignited something in Amaya she hadn't felt before, more than simple lust. Her fingers ventured down to her apex, pressing against her sensitive flesh in wide, gentle circles. She thought about Abelas’ tongue dancing with her own, imagining the dexterity and skill of that muscle being put to other uses. Amaya stifled a whimper as she increased the pressure against her clit, gathering some of her slick and speeding up her ministrations. She ripped off her smallclothes to get a better angle, using her other hand to dip into her core, pretending they were Abelas’ fingers instead of her own. She moaned as she grazed the sensitive, spongy flesh near her entrance. She increased the urgency of her movements, imagining Abelas having his way with her, possessing her in every way possible. Soon she was thrusting and bucking against her hand, keening loudly as she rode out her release.

Not a moment later she heard a knock at her bedroom door. “Amaya? Are you awake?” Abelas called through the door.

Amaya’s heart flew up to her throat and her voice shook as she replied, “Yes, just a minute!” She rose quickly and threw on a nightgown before running over and opening the door.

Abelas stared at her for a moment, his eyebrows knitting in concern. “Are you ill? You look flushed.” He asked, his voice softer than usual.

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine, just a little warm.” She replied nervously. Amaya felt the heat in her cheeks and wiped away a layer of sweat from her brow, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. She couldn’t believe what she had done and she was mortified that Abelas may have heard some--or all--of it.

Abelas raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I heard some moaning and whining before I came in here. I thought you might be in pain.” Amaya followed his gaze towards the bed, taking in the rumpled sheets and cast-off smallclothes.

Amaya’s heart stopped. _Creators, take me now._ She tried to smile and brush it off. “Oh, that must have been the wind. I’m fine, really.” She sighed. “What is it you came to see me about?” She wondered if he was going to talk to her about their kiss.

Abelas’ face shifted as his attention was brought back to the original purpose of his visit. “I must leave for a few days to attend to some business.” He said.

Amaya nodded, wondering why he had come to her room to tell her when he could have left a note.

“There is something I must show you first.” He added, his tone more serious and cryptic than usual.

Amaya simply nodded and followed Abelas out of the room. She was surprised to see that he had kept his hood down, his ivory hair catching the moonlight as they walked. He led her through the temple to the room with the Eluvian, only now there were two, one on either side of the room. The one closest to them was glowing and Abelas stopped in front of it, motioning for Amaya to join him.

“I apologize for waiting so long to show this to you.” Abelas said. He took Amaya’s hand and led her through the mirror.

They emerged at the edge of what appeared to be a floating island. Amaya was shocked and taken aback at first, and she held on tightly to Abelas, afraid that she might fall. When she regained her composure she quickly let go, issuing a soft “Sorry” before taking a step away from Abelas. She looked around, and up, and down, as the floating island they were on was surrounded by other floating structures. The largest of them even appeared to be upside down. All of the structures were in various states of ruination, ancient and made of stone, with ominous statues and murals lining the walls. The rest of the empty walls in the buildings were covered by ceiling-high bookshelves, with a few tables and chairs taking up the wider, more open areas. There was no sun that Amaya could see, just an otherworldly glow that lit the entire place.

“This place is amazing. Is it some kind of library?” Amaya asked.

“Yes.” Abelas replied. “This is where my people kept all of their knowledge. Though it is but a shadow of what it once was, I have no doubt that you will find it useful.”

While the library was impressive and beautiful, Amaya wasn’t really sure how to go about using it. She gave Abelas a confused look.

“You can find information on almost any topic here. All of the books that I’ve given you to study are from this library.” Abelas said. “The Eluvian to this place will remain open, so you can come here whenever you like.”

Amaya gave a faint nod, though she was lost in thought as she looked around at the library.

“I must leave now. You may stay here if you wish.” Abelas said, turning back towards the Eluvian. “I will return in a few days.”

Amaya stared after him, wanting to ask him about the kiss, but instead she just watched him disappear through the Eluvian. After a few moments she followed him through, only to find that he’d already left. She gave a deep sigh and decided to go back to the library.

Once she was back through the Eluvian, she looked around at the other platforms floating around her, trying to figure out how to get to them. A few were connected by staircases, and one structure was so large that she couldn’t see all of it from where she stood. The one thing that most of them seemed to have in common were, of course, Eluvians. Amaya walked over to the only other Eluvian on her platform and touched it with her fingertip to see if it was active. Her finger passed through the surface and she followed it through, finding herself on the large, inverted platform, staring up at the place where she had just been standing.

She wandered the library, taking in the giant statues and murals as she tried to discern how the books were organized. It didn’t help that most of the books didn’t have titles on the spines, and if they did they were incredibly undescriptive. When no clear system became apparent, she just grabbed a book at random. There was nothing written on the cover so Amaya flipped to the first page of the text. It was written in ancient Elvhen, but if she concentrated hard enough she could make out some of the words. Her skill at using the memories from the Well to read ancient texts was mediocre at best, but she had been learning quickly with Abelas’ help.

From what she could gather, the text she held was some type of anatomy book. Normally the subject wouldn’t interest her all that much as she had read plenty of anatomy books, but she was more than little curious to see if the ancient elves had any anatomical differences from modern elves. The second page of the book was an image of a naked elf woman, front and back, with several areas highlighted and labeled. The next page was the same, but of a man. After that were detailed diagrams of female and male genitalia--all the same as modern elves’, though maybe not the sizes. All very normal and somewhat boring. Amaya turned the page, expecting to see some other anatomical diagrams, possibly of the internal reproductive system, as that seemed to be the focus of this book. When she turned the page she let out a small gasp, staring at the image of a man and woman having sex. The title over the image translated roughly to “Basic Position”.

Amaya flipped through the book, finding only more images of sexual acts and positions, each labeled with a title. Some were very clever, like “Halla Rider”, while others were more euphemistic (“Banana Between Two Peaches”), and still others made almost no sense (“Bird Flying over Ram’s Horns in the Rain”). Though she wasn’t easily embarrassed, some of the very advanced and complicated positions made Amaya blush. One detail seemed quite constant throughout the diagrams and images and she wondered if it was exaggerated at all: the men in the images were all very well-endowed, much more so than any of the elves she had been with, and the humans too. Briefly her mind wandered to Abelas and what he might be hiding under that tight armor of his, a thought that caused her blush to deepen and her thighs to clench together.

Amaya slammed the book closed, pushing it across the long table in front of her. She got up and walked over to another bookcase, grabbing the first book within reach and cracking it open. The page she opened to was a description of ancient Elvhen armor with illustrations of the individual pieces and how they fit together. _Okay, that’s a little weird. That armor looks almost like Abelas’._ She set the book down and picked up one that had been next to it on the shelf. This book seemed more recent than the others; its cover and pages were not as faded, and the language seemed to be a mix of modern and ancient words. The book was a history book of sorts, written by one of the last priests of Mythal during the fall of Arlathan. He wanted to record the history, traditions, and rituals of the followers of Mythal for posterity, as they had never been written down before and he feared there would be no one left to pass on their legacy.

Intrigued, Amaya sat down and quickly began poring over the text. She was amazed to learn that this priest was the last one known to have been the vessel for the vir’abelasan, which meant that the knowledge and power she had absorbed had probably come directly from him. As she read, she learned that the place Abelas had brought her to was called the Temple of Trials. The book confirmed what Abelas had told her--that the temple was a place for the priests of Mythal to study and prepare to become the vessel for the Well of Sorrows. Their training was pretty consistent with the training that Abelas had been giving her. There was also a physical component to their studies; they were all trained as soldiers in hand-to-hand, magical, and weapons combat.

The text explained that after studying for several decades, even a few hundred years, the priests would take a final test--the test of the ironwood tree. They would drink a small amount of the vir’abelasan in order to access a fraction of the Well’s powers for their test. Only those who unlocked the true power of the ironwood tree would be allowed access to the Temple of Sorrows, where they would be required to walk the path of Mythal before partaking of the Well. Every few hundred years, there was only one priest who possessed the knowledge and devotion to become Mythal’s ultimate servant. The rest of the priests who had failed the test would go back to studying for another century or two until the test was given again. If a priest failed his test five times in a row, he was sent to the Temple of Sorrows as a sentinel to guard the Well for several hundred years, at which point he could come back to resume training and try the test again. The sentinels at the Well of Sorrows were all former priests. Most of them were there temporarily, waiting until they could go back to resume their training. A few decided that the life of a sentinel was for them, so they signed on as permanent guardians, protecting the vir’abelasan until their end.

Amaya wondered which one Abelas was. Had he chosen the life of a sentinel, abandoning his priestly life to become a temple guardian? Or had he been waiting to go back when Arlathan fell and the priests of Mythal became no more, stuck guarding the Well he had spent centuries preparing to partake of? Sleeping for hundreds of years at a time, only to awake when someone stumbled upon the temple, waiting and wondering if this time it would be one of the priests, finally here to release him from his duty. She began to understand how Abelas could become so cold and distant, and how he probably resented her for stealing the one thing he had worked his whole life for. In the end he hadn’t even succeeded in his role as sentinel. The Well he had worked so many centuries to protect was taken by some woman calling herself Elvhen, who had no idea the significance the vir’abelasan held.

She instantly regretted how she had treated Abelas at the Well of Sorrows and later, at the Temple of Trials. She had jumped into a situation and a commitment she knew nothing about, gaining the power of a goddess she had been wrong about, and she had nearly died from it. Abelas, whose life’s work she had desecrated in mere seconds, had taken it upon himself not only to save her life, but to teach her how to use the powers she had so recklessly stolen. He was preparing her for the life he’d wanted to live, however many hundreds of years ago.

Amaya read the rest of the book in somber reverie, thoughts of Abelas lingering in her mind. She kept wondering how he felt about her, if he hated her for taking the Well for herself, if the only thing he valued about her was the power of the vir’abelasan within her. Maybe he was starting to see her as more, if not as a friend then at least as a person, as someone he could relate to in some small way. He had kissed her, but he had stopped himself, and that passion could easily have been fueled by anger or hatred. Amaya decided she would ask Abelas about it as soon as he returned.

When she finally finished the book Amaya realized she was incredibly exhausted. The ethereal light surrounding the library hadn’t changed, and she wondered how long she’d been there. She took the book with her back towards the entrance--it would likely prove useful in the future. She stepped through the Eluvian back to the temple and was surprised to see the sun setting through the window. She had been in the library almost a whole day--no wonder she was so tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she walked back towards her room; she almost missed Abelas as he rushed past her.

“Hey, wait!” Amaya called, turning quickly and catching Abelas by the shoulder.

“My apologies, da’len. I had forgotten something so I came to retrieve it, but now I must return. My business is not yet completed.” He said quickly.

“Aren’t we going to talk about what happened earlier?” Amaya asked. She tried to sound indignant, but her voice came out soft and timid.

Abelas’ face remained impassive as he faced her. “Do you mean the kiss?” He asked.

Amaya nodded.

“What would you like to discuss about it?”

Amaya sighed. “I don’t know. How do you feel about it?”

“As your ha’hren, I regret letting it happen and taking advantage of you. I failed in my duty.”

Amaya pressed her lips together, trying not to feel disappointed. She shouldn’t have expected any other response.

Abelas took a step towards her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “But as a man, outside of my duty and obligation, I regret nothing.”

Chills went down Amaya’s spine as Abelas’ breath blew hot across her ear and neck. His lips pressed ever so softly against her pulse point. Amaya whined as she felt Abelas’ teeth graze her skin, then bite down over her artery. The wet heat of his tongue followed, laving the tender bite mark. Her knees shook.

“I have been wanting to do that for some time.” Abelas whispered against her skin. “That, and so much more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of DYING to know how you guys feel about this chapter, so any comments/feedback/suggestions/criticism are more than welcome!! I would especially love to know what you think about Abelas' backstory so far.


	9. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance, I know you guys are going to hate me for this ;x_x

Amaya woke with her head resting on an open book and a slickness between her thighs. She had fallen asleep reading the text about Mythal’s priests. She was still in the library and Abelas was still gone. She was angry at herself for having such a dream about him. She picked up the book and took it with her back through the Eluvian. The sun was just setting at the temple as it had been in her dream and she kept stopping at every small sound she heard, somewhat expecting Abelas to come rushing down the hall.

Amaya reached her room with no sign of Abelas. Still frustrated over her dream, she slammed the door behind her and threw the book on her table. She noticed that her plate of uneaten dinner was gone, and she tripped over something that had been leaning against the chair. Bending down to pick it up, she saw that Abelas had left and a bow and a quiver of arrows for her. There was a note attached the to quiver: _So you can practice._ Amaya grinned, unsure if this was a friendly gesture or a challenge. She ran her hands along the wood of the bow--perfectly polished ironbark, the highest quality she had ever seen. The arrows were the same high quality wood with everite heads in a snofleur leather quiver. All of it looked like it had never been used before, and Amaya wondered where Abelas had gotten it. Once she had stored the bow and quiver safely, Amaya crossed the room and threw herself onto her bed. She was too exhausted even to change her clothes, and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

\-----

Over the next few days Amaya returned to the library only briefly to retrieve the book on sexual positions (for academic study, of course). The rest of the time she spent practicing with her new bow and arrows (there were brand new archery targets set up in the courtyard) and finishing the book by the priest of Mythal. She read that there were female priestesses of Mythal--many of them, in fact--but that they served in various other temples. The Temple of Trials was the only one that was strictly for men, and the Well of Sorrows could only be partaken of by male priests who passed their tests. However, any follower of Mythal, priest or priestess, could enter the Temple of Sorrows to petition the goddess.

The text described what happens once one becomes the vessel for the vir’abelasan. The vessel is required to give up their monastic life, to go out into the world and do Mythal’s bidding--essentially becoming her right and left hand. They are bound by the power of the Well to Mythal’s will, unable to go against her wishes without severe physical and mental pain. Mythal was typically benevolent to her followers, but she was vengeful towards those that wronged her in any way. Often, the tasks of the vessel involved exacting Mythal’s revenge against her perceived enemies. A vessel was often forced to harm people they believed innocent, or even those they cared about. Mythal demanded much of her vessels, especially after her murder. The book started to explain why women were no longer allowed to be Mythal’s vessels, but the page had been torn out.

One interesting part of the text described the priests’ views on sex. Romantic relationships were forbidden, but once a year the priests were allowed to leave the temple in order to seek sexual partners. As long as their hearts remained faithful to Mythal, what the priests did with their bodies was up to them. The rest of the book explained the details of daily life in the temple, and the ways in which reverence and offerings were made to Mythal by the priests. While the highest levels of priests were the ones who completed the trials of Mythal, there were several lower orders of priests who were also training while helping to run the temple. The text mentioned the village that Abelas would travel to to get food and supplies, as well as the various gardens around the temple grounds where food and herbs were grown. The book ended with a description of the maze and the giant Eluvian outside the temple, but the last two pages had been torn out--presumably they had a map or some other description about the maze that could have been used to navigate it and use the portal. Amaya kept the book on her nightstand, rereading parts of it frequently.

When she slept, Amaya dreamt of Abelas. Her dreams were not always sexual, though they were generally romantic in nature. Amaya would awaken with an odd ache in her chest, a longing she couldn’t explain. Every so often when she walked the halls of the temple she would peer into the Eluvian room, hoping to see Abelas returning through the mirror. Each time the mirror remained dark, the room empty, and Amaya felt her heart sink. Did she have feelings for Abelas? Did she just miss him because he was her only company in this place? Were her dreams just a product of their kiss, or perhaps her own sexual frustration? She still hadn’t been able to convince herself that the kiss meant nothing. In fact, the more she thought about it the more she believed the opposite. The kiss meant something--it meant more than something. Though exactly _what_ it meant remained to be seen.

On the fifth day after Abelas’ departure Amaya began to grow anxious. He’d said it would only take a few days for him to finish his business, yet he was still gone. In order to distract herself she went to the library. She had discovered that the library had no formal organization system; it would simply give you a book on the topic you were thinking about. She tried to find more information about the maze and how to use the Eluvian there, but the library offered her very little. Instead, she ended up with more books about the worship of Mythal and the rest of the Elvhen pantheon. Amaya’s mind kept traveling back to Abelas, even when she didn’t mean for it to. She went around in circles trying to figure out what their kiss meant, why she kept dreaming about him, and how he may have felt about her, but she couldn’t figure anything out on her own. She needed to talk to Abelas.

After several hours in the library, Amaya decided to call it a day, taking a few books with her to read in her room for the evening. As she stepped through the Eluvian back into the temple she couldn’t help but glance at the other mirror, hoping to see Abelas coming through. Of course, the mirror remained dark and cold. Amaya sighed deeply as she walked down the hall to her quarters. She didn’t even bother to close the door to her room, dropping the books on her nightstand before flopping down onto her bed. She lied in bed staring at the ceiling for a while, her mind devoid of any significant thoughts. It wasn’t until she reached over to grab one of the books that she noticed something on the floor next to her bed. She leaned down and picked up the piece of parchment that had been laying on the ground. It must have fallen off the table when she’d set the books down.

_Amaya,_

_My errand is taking longer than I expected. I apologize for the delay. I will return as quickly as I am able._

_Abelas_

Amaya reread the note a couple of times, trying to discern any feeling or tone from the words. Regardless of his intent, Amaya felt a glimmer of hope from Abelas’ note. The fact that he had bothered to leave one at all spoke volumes in her mind. She was happy to have heard from him, but disappointed that he’d been here and she had missed him. In fact, he hadn’t even said _when_ he would be back. She decided to stay as busy as possible until he returned to keep her mind occupied. It was still light out, so she grabbed her bow and quiver and headed out to the courtyard. As she walked the bow slid from her grip, almost falling to the floor. Amaya caught it in time but at an odd angle, and she felt something strange under her fingertips, an imperfection in the wood. She held the bow up to her face to examine it and noticed a small carved area at the top. There were letters engraved in ancient Elvhen script--“AL”--her initials.

It took her a moment to process the fact that Abelas had not only given her this incredible bow, but her initials had been carved in it. She set the bow down gently against a wall and went to examine her quiver. To her surprise, the same letters had been embossed into the leather, along with a simple version of her vallaslin--Mythal’s vallaslin. How had she not noticed this over the past few days? Amaya pulled out an arrow from her quiver. Sure enough, her initials were engraved at the bottom of the arrowhead. Her chest felt light and warm at Abelas’ thoughtfulness. Had he gone out and purchased the gifts, having the craftsmen mark them with her initials? Had he found them in one of the temple’s storerooms and carved the initials himself? Either way, the forethought and consideration he had put into the gifts was touching. Amaya was apprehensive about using the bow and quiver now that she knew how special they were. She wanted to store them away somewhere so that she could keep them as pristine as possible, but Abelas had given them to her specifically to practice. Amaya picked up her bow and went out in the courtyard. She sat down in the grass and leaned back, watching the sky change colors beyond the walls of the temple as the sun slowly sank.

She thought about her friends and companions in the Inquisition, probably sitting down for their evening meal. Were they all at Skyhold, preparing for their next attack against Corypheus? Were any of them out searching for her? How was the Inquisition managing without her? How were they dealing with the rifts without the Anchor? Amaya felt a deep surge of guilt in her chest at the thought. Over the past few months she had repressed those thoughts, trying to focus on completing her training so that she could leave. She was never one to worry over things she couldn’t change, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel responsible for them. Though not by choice, she had abandoned the Inquisition when they needed her the most. Or rather, when they needed the Anchor the most. It was the only thing they knew of that could close the rifts, and the only weapon they had that was strong enough to take on Corypheus. Did he know that she had not returned to the Inquisition? Amaya shuddered at the thought, her heart filling with dread. With her out of the picture Corypheus might try to take on the Inquisition directly, and though their forces were more than capable, Amaya knew there would be losses. Losses that she was responsible for.

What if Corypheus had found a way to enter the Black City already? Would she even know? The temple must be tied to the Fade somehow; wouldn’t they be affected somehow? Could Corypheus find them there if he knew where to look? The sky above started to darken into the colors of twilight, Amaya’s thoughts darkening with it. She imagined Corypheus finding another Eluvian and making his way to the library, catching her by surprise the next time she went to look for a book. Maybe he would just go through the temple, smashing all of the Eluvians so that there would be no way for her to get back home. She wondered if Abelas would be any match for the ancient magister; surely the sentinel knew some spells that could take down a would-be god. They could beseech Mythal to lend them some of her power--the All-Mother wouldn’t leave her servants and her temple to be destroyed by an infidel. At that thought the voices from the vir’abelasan gave their approval. She saw a flash of an altar, deserted at the edge of a clearing and flanked on either side by statues of Mythal and Fen’Harel. She tried to get more detail but her head began to ache--the first time she had felt such a pain in a while. The moon was making its slow ascent in the sky and the torches around the courtyard sparked to life as they did every night. Amaya took that as her cue to go back to her room and try to sleep.

As she lied in bed, Amaya’s mind refused to settle. She kept imagining the dark future she had seen in Redcliffe, the terrible things that had happened to her friends in her absence. Amaya reminded herself that the situation was different now--Corypheus didn’t have the mages on his side, the Inquisition had a massive fortress, and the Breach was no more. Not to mention the plans that Amaya had thwarted along the way--disrupting the supply of red lyrium, uniting Orlais under Celene, Gaspard, and Briala, saving the remaining Grey Wardens from Corypheus’ control, severely weakening his second in command and taking the Well of Sorrows and its Eluvian away from him. The Inquisition was in a much, much better position than they had been when the dark future had happened. Her advisors, companions, and the rest of the Inquisition were a force to be reckoned with. Maybe they didn’t even need her after all. Maybe they were doing fine without her, and that’s why she hadn’t heard anything from them.

That, and the fact that her only contact with the outside world was through a grumpy immortal elf guardian. A few weeks ago it wouldn’t have been hard for Amaya to believe that Abelas never delivered the letters she had given him. Now, she had no idea. The past several days had revealed some things about Abelas that were causing her opinion of him to change. Was it possible that she was beginning to feel empathetic towards her captor? It had been a while since she had considered him that--a captor. It was true that he had taken her against her will, but he had saved her life by doing so. More recently she had considered him a teacher, someone she respected even though they often butted heads. And now, now things were...complicated. Amaya refused to let herself get pulled into another circular thought pattern about Abelas. Her mind now quieted from her earlier worry, she was able to close her eyes and find sleep quickly. Her dreams were light and fleeting, gone and forgotten by the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I told myself I wouldn't trick you guys with dream sequences anymore but I couldn't help it! That whole scene felt very OOC for Abelas to me. Plus Amaya needed some more time to brood over everything by herself. What's coming later will hopefully be worth the frustration and the wait! 
> 
> Thanks again for all of your kudos, comments, and support <3


	10. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas finally returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Blood, gore, description of injuries
> 
> This chapter is like two in one. Also, I took some liberties with lore, but most of it is from the Dragon Age Wikia.

The next two days passed by in much the same manner. Amaya spent the majority of her time shooting targets in the courtyard, making sure to treat her equipment with the utmost care. In the evenings she went to the library, finding books about archery, the architecture of Arlathan, and an interesting text on the different species of plants grown and used by the ancient Elvhen. The latter was full of detailed drawings and descriptions--Amaya could almost see them in her mind. She was amazed by the incredible variety of plants and trees that were native to Elvhenan. Plants that required no soil, floating high in the air and living on magic and sunshine alone. Color-changing flowers the size of aravels with patterns so detailed they mimicked other plants and even animals. Trees that grew taller than towers, their highest branches peeking up above the clouds. The various fruits and vegetables the ancient elves grew were as beautiful as they were strange. With the brightest colored skin and every texture of flesh imaginable, from crisp and crunchy to soft and juicy, gooey and sticky, light and fluffy or dry and starchy, the combinations were endless and Amaya couldn’t decide which she would have liked best.

Reading about all of the delicious produce made Amaya’s stomach grumble in protest, and she realized she hadn’t eaten since early in the morning. She packed up her books and quickly headed through the Eluvian, her mind focused on what she was going to have for dinner. As she walked across the Eluvian room, she slipped on something wet and fell backward, dropping her books and bracing herself on her hands. She sat up, checking herself for injuries. Her hands and wrists were a little sore, but she didn’t think she’d sprained them. Then her gaze fell to her elbow--it was streaked with blood. She felt the area--it didn’t feel injured at all--and she summoned a magelight to see better. The whole room was illuminated by the magelight’s glow, and Amaya screamed. Right where she had slipped was a puddle of blood, dark and congealing, with Abelas’ traveling pack next to it. Her breath caught in her lungs at the sight.

Amaya stood quickly, narrowly avoiding the puddle. She brought the magelight out into the corridor where she saw streaks of blood heading towards her room. Dropping the magelight, she sprinted down the corridor. She stopped abruptly at the entrance to her room, where she found Abelas lying face down on the floor.

“Abelas?” She cried, her voice wavering. She rushed to him, kneeling at his side and lifting his head so that he faced her. His eyes were closed and he didn’t respond. Cradling his head in her lap, Amaya rose up carefully on her knees and struggled to flip Abelas over onto his back. Her heart went to her throat as she took in his injuries.

One of his pauldrons had been torn off and there was a huge gash from his shoulder to his elbow. The armor plate on one leg was cracked and bent, pulling away from his body to reveal a piece of broken bone sticking out of his thigh. Amaya held her breath as she brought her fingers to Abelas’ throat, feeling for his pulse. It was faint and slow, but it was there. Quickly, she summoned the pillows from her bed and gently rested Abelas’ head on them. She hovered over him, holding her hands over the wound in his shoulder. Her hands shook as she cast a spell to slow the bleeding, the words falling from her lips like hail as she struggled to do what Deshanna had taught her. Amaya had never been that skilled with healing magic, and it took all of her concentration to complete the spell. She performed the same spell on his leg, then made sure his pulse was still there before running off to gather healing supplies. Amaya went to the kitchen and filled a basin with water, grabbing several towels on her way back. She dropped the basin and towels off in her room, making sure Abelas was still stable, then ran down to the basement to retrieve Abelas’ supply of herbs. She also found some pieces of fabric that she could use as bandages. Once she had all of her supplies, Amaya got to work. She carefully removed each piece of his armor, checking for other injuries as she went. Abelas’ body was badly bruised, covered in cuts and scrapes, and it looked like he had broken at least a few ribs.

When she reached his injured leg, Amaya took a deep breath before removing the broken armor. A shard of bone pierced the skin of his thigh, and the leg itself lay at an odd angle. Once she had Abelas down to just his smallclothes, she began the process of setting his leg. First, she cleansed the wound with hot water, then mixed and applied a healing salve. The rest of the process was half physical, half magical. She had to splint the sides of his leg, then cast a complex series of spells while slowly pushing the bone back into its original place. She had helped her mother perform this treatment several times, when their hunters had been attacked or an aravel had crashed, but she had never done the entire thing herself. It usually required another person to hold the patient still and to supply extra mana. Even though Abelas had passed out, he winced and groaned as Amaya set the bone. Her heart sank, he was in such pain, but she couldn’t stop what she was doing to comfort him.

Almost an hour passed before the procedure was finished. When she finally released the spell, Amaya’s arms started to shake uncontrollably, the muscles burning from holding the same position for so long. She was drenched in sweat, with strands of hair plastered to her face and blood caked on her skin. She took a moment to breathe and drink some water, then she had to make sure her hard work didn’t go to waste. Pushing through the pain, she applied more salve to Abelas’ leg before wrapping it in strips of the fabric. With her mana reserves running dangerously low, Amaya cast a quick spell to harden the outer layer of bandages. Then, exhausted, she let herself fall back onto the floor, savoring a few moments of reprieve before getting back up to treat Abelas’ shoulder. Though this wound was much larger, the treatment was not as involved, and Amaya finished quickly. She did the best she could to heal his broken ribs, then checked on Abelas’ state once more before going to the bathing room to clean herself up. She drew herself a bath, heating the water with a spell, and sank down into the high tub. It was hard to keep from falling asleep, but she just washed herself off before returning to Abelas.

Amaya couldn’t leave him lying on the floor all night, so she cast a levitation spell to take some of Abelas’ weight while she lifted him up onto her bed. She arranged the pillows beneath his head and his broken leg so that they were both elevated, then tucked the covers in around him. He whined and moaned as he tried to get comfortable. Amaya stroked his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and smoothing it down. Abelas quieted, but she noticed that he was sweating, and his head felt unusually hot. She prayed to Mythal that his wounds weren’t becoming infected, and quickly mixed up a fever reducing medicine which she placed under Abelas’ tongue. She then cast a spell over him to reduce his pain and help him sleep. Completely drained, Amaya grabbed a small quilt and curled up on the couch that she had pushed in front of the bed. From there she had a good view of Abelas, and would be able to hear if he awoke during the night. With a flick of her wrist she dispersed the magelights she had summoned, all but one, which she left floating near Abelas. Comforted by the steady sound of his breathing, Amaya closed her eyes and gave herself over to the Fade.

\-----

The morning sun poured through the stained glass windows, shining right into Amaya’s face. She held her hand over her eyes to block the light but it was too late, she was already awake. She groaned. Why had she never had this problem before? She squinted through the bright sunlight and saw her bed, with Abelas in it. _That’s right._ The memory of the previous night came rushing back to her. She rose quickly, running over to Abelas’ side. He was sweating, his skin hot to the touch, and his pulse was racing beneath her fingertips. Amaya carefully removed the bandages from his wounds to check for infection. The injuries themselves looked fine, but the veins below the wound in his shoulder were dark, almost black, and bulged out from his skin. After quickly cleaning and rebandaging the wounds, Amaya tried casting a cleansing spell over Abelas’ arm. The discolored veins slowly lightened, shrinking back below the skin. Amaya released the spell, tired from the effort. After a few moments she watched incredulously as the veins began to darken and enlarge again. She thought back to all of the infections she had watched her mother treat, but none of them had looked like this.

 _Not an infection,_ the voices from the Well sounded in her head. _A sickness._

Amaya grabbed her forehead, though the voices weren’t causing her too much pain this time. “What sickness?” she asked, unsure if she spoke aloud or only in her head.

 _An ancient sickness. Darkness, passed through the blood._ They answered.

There was only one sickness Amaya could think of that fit that description. She began to panic. “How could he have gotten the Taint? Was he fighting darkspawn?”

The voices remained annoyingly silent.

“If he’s been infected by darkspawn blood…Fuck.” Amaya let out a harsh breath. She knew there was a way to slow the effects of the Taint--Keeper Marethari had done it with the Hero of Ferelden--but that method could only delay the effects for so long, and Amaya had never learned it.

 _The library._ The Well voices whispered.

Amaya bolted from the room and ran to the library. She thought hard about cures for the Taint and grabbed the first book she could reach. The text described the First Blight from the perspective of the Elvhen slaves in Tevinter. It told how the magisters in their hubris ignored the Blight until the darkspawn emerged from the Deep Roads. Many magisters fled, leaving their slaves to defend their property from the darkspawn hordes. It went on to describe how hundreds of elves fell to the Blight, though it killed them slower than their human counterparts. Those who still possessed magic devised a way to delay the effects of the Taint even longer, though they could not cure it entirely. The text went on to describe how the elves shared some of their magic with the fledgling Grey Wardens in exchange for fair treatment and a promise to help them gain independence after the Blight. The Wardens adapted the Elvhen spells (along with blood and other magics) to create their Joining ritual. The spells they borrowed from the Elvhen sounded very similar to the one Marethari must have used on Mahariel. Amaya found detailed descriptions of the spells and how to cast them; it was just a matter of choosing the correct one. Different spells were used depending on how far the sickness had progressed. Amaya chose the one intended for the earliest stages of the Taint, since Abelas’ wound was very fresh and his symptoms matched the book’s description. According to the text, the spell could grant Abelas several more months before the illness progressed.

The spell required a rare potion which Amaya was unable to find in Abelas’ makeshift apothecary. She knew how to make it, but the ingredients needed to be combined slowly over the course of a day, then steeped together overnight before the mixture could be used. Amaya mumbled out curses as she combined the first ingredients--it would be a full 24 hours before she could use the potion and cast the spell to help Abelas. She found the hourglass Abelas had used during some of her training sessions and set it next to the potion mixture. It would need to be flipped three times before she could add the next few ingredients. She turned and saw Abelas’ pack next to the table--she had picked it up on her way back from the library. It was covered in blood and she opened it, finding food and some supplies they’d been needing. Towards the bottom of the bag were two pieces of parchment, slightly crinkled and spotted with blood. Amaya unfolded them, laying them out on the table. As she examined them she let out a loud squeal before cupping her hand over her mouth. They were letters, addressed to Amaya. The first was bore the Inquisition’s seal; the second was from her mother. She ran her fingers over them, feeling the roughness of the parchment, the indentations from each pen stroke. She wasn’t imagining things; they were real, tangible objects.

Amaya sat down on her sofa with the letters. She read the longer one--the one from the Inquisition--first.

_Dear Fireball,_

_I hope this letter reaches you. We received your letter, or what we hope was your letter. It just appeared on Ruffles’ desk one morning--no one saw who delivered it. Nightingale was furious that someone had gotten into the castle unnoticed. She had Dagna thoroughly inspect the letter for poison or curses before they let any of us know about it. Of course everyone was glad to hear that you’re alive, even if you’re being held captive by Chuckles’ evil twin brother. If I didn’t know you, I would have said you were making all that shit up about the Well of Sorrows and him “training” you. I guess you should have let Morrigan drink it after all. She’s been moaning about it ever since. She keeps saying “I wouldn’t have let myself be kidnapped” and “I could have handled the effects of the Well on my own, blah blah blah.” Honestly, I think she knows she dodged an arrow with that one and she feels kind of guilty. She’s been spending a lot of time going through that mirror, searching all the Eluvians in that Crossroads place to try and get to you. I think she only comes back to check on Kieran._

_Curly doesn’t trust Morrigan or the Eluvian, but since there’s a possibility of finding you he lets her search. He hasn’t called back all of the troops he sent out to look for you, but you knew that, right? Don’t worry, he kept a very strong force here at Skyhold in case Corypheus attacks. Which, by the way, is the Seeker’s greatest fear right now. She believes all of this was a part of Corypheus’ plan somehow. While everyone else is searching every corner of Thedas for you, she’s having her people search for Corypheus’ base. “We cannot forget our true cause,” she says, “our purpose does not change even though we are without an Inquisitor. Our goal must remain the same.”_

_Nightingale and Ruffles have got nearly every spy and ally of the Inquisition looking for you, from the Wilds in the south all the way up to Par Vollen. Ruffles sent letters to all of the Dalish clans in Thedas to get information about ancient Elvhen temples, any known Eluvians, and any history or connections to the Well of Sorrows. I think Empress Celene and King Alistair are even providing support for the search. Tiny and the Chargers scoured the Temple of Mythal for clues, but haven’t found anything useful. He misses you, you know. He acts like everything’s fine but he hasn’t so much as pinched a serving girl’s ass since you’ve been gone. He’s just a big old softie. I think he’s even tried getting in touch with some of his former Ben-Hassrath contacts to see if they know anything. I know Buttercup’s got every friend of Red Jenny out there looking for you and “Abel-ASS” as she calls him. She told them to “look for the elfiest elf ever to elf. Also, shiny thighs.”_

_Sparkler agreed to work with Alexius to research location spells. They’re trying to make something like a phylactery using dried blood they got off of your armor and old staves. The problem is that they can’t be sure if all of the blood is yours or not. So far they haven’t had much luck. He said to tell you “I hope she knows how special she is. There are only a few people I would go to all this trouble for. Have I mentioned how disgusting her dirty armor is? Dried blood and demon guts everywhere. I can’t believe I’m even doing this.” He acts like it’s a burden but he would do anything to find you, Fireball. Chuckles is being Chuckles. Half the time he’s got his nose deep in some ancient text and the other half he’s off sleeping in ruins exploring the Fade. He’s been even quieter and grumpier than usual. I think all that ancient elf stuff got to him._

_I know you’re concerned about the rifts. The Iron Lady worked with Dagna, Fiona, and the Circle mages to come up with a way to deal with them. They developed a grenade that casts a stasis/containment spell around the rifts, keeping them from spouting new demons. The grenades use the power generated by the rift to sustain the spell. Pretty fucking brilliant, right? The Iron Lady’s been taking Hero, Harding, and the Kid out to fight the rift demons and use the grenades. It’s working pretty great so far. Those rifts’ll still be waiting for you when you get back though. When he’s back at Skyhold, Hero’s constantly in the barn, doing his carving. He must’ve carved an entire legion of griffons, a bunch of horses, and a halla (pretty sure that one’s for you). The Kid tries to cheer everyone up, but it’s hard because he’s hurting too._

_I’ve got people on the lookout for you too. Hawke’s up in Weisshaupt, Aveline’s covering Kirkwall, and Choir Boy’s searching Starkhaven and most of the Free Marches. Broody is all over the place, Daisy’s got her contacts in the Alienages, and Rivaini’s searching for news in every port she stops at. I even have some contacts in the Merchant’s Guild keeping an eye out in Orzammar. Had to call in a bunch of huge favors for that one--you’re welcome. As for me, I’ve been doing a lot of writing, to keep my mind busy. My next book is a fantastic story about the famous Inquisitor being kidnapped by a crazed immortal Elvhen sentinel. You’ll have to check it for inaccuracies when you come back._

_Of course we haven’t forgotten about your precious Ishta. She was okay at first, since she’s used to you being gone for weeks at a time on your longer, more dangerous missions. But recently she’s noticed you’ve been gone for too long, and she’s gotten depressed. She stopped eating and would just walk around aimlessly, not running or playing with the other mounts like she used to. Master Dennet said he knows enough about halla, but they don’t respect humans the way they do elves. So he has that Dalish kid, Loranil, taking care of her. She’s gotten a little better under his care. She started eating again, but she’s still having a hard time. We wrote to your clan to see if they have any advice, but we haven’t gotten a response yet. You sent them a letter too, right?_

_Anyway, we all miss you and we’re doing everything we can to find you. I know you say you’re fine and Abelas is helping you, but don’t trust him too much, okay? Keep your guard up. If anyone can handle this, it’s you. Oh, and magical ancient guardian guy, if you’re reading this, you better not hurt a hair on Fireball’s head or the entirety of the Inquisition will track you down and make you wish you were dead._

_Love,_  
_Varric (and the Inquisition)_

Amaya stared blankly ahead as she placed the letter next to her on the couch. It was as if her body was frozen. She slowly wiped away the tears that were streaming down her face. A small sob escaped her quivering lips, slightly parted, as if she were about to speak. For several moments she had no coherent thoughts. She felt completely numb save for a deep ache in her chest and an overwhelming wave of nausea. Everything felt too real and not real at all, like she was trapped underwater. After several moments she inhaled deeply, and realized she hadn’t been breathing. She smiled, letting out a sad laugh, then pressed her lips between her teeth as more sobs threatened to form. It was more than she could have ever hoped for, to hear from her companions and to know that they were okay. Though Corypheus was still a looming threat, he had taken a serious loss and was likely regaining strength before he would attack again. Even the rifts had been dealt with, if only temporarily. A knot of guilt formed in Amaya’s gut at the thought of how many people were potentially risking their lives to find her. She knew their effort was futile and wished they would call off the search. It hit her, then. The real world was out there, with her friends and companions, with the Inquisition, with a world-threatening enemy and serious responsibilities. And her she was, living some sheltered fantasy life away from everything with Abelas.

 _Abelas._ Amaya turned her attention to the injured elf in the bed in front of her. He was tossing and turning under the blankets, beads of sweat dripping down from his brow. She ran over to him, cooling a piece of cloth and wiping his forehead with it. She held up his head and trickled some water into his mouth, then placed more fever medicine under his tongue. After adjusting his pillows and blankets she placed the cool cloth on his forehead. Her hand lingered, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. Amaya watched as his jaw slowly unclenched and his brow unwrinkled, his expression becoming almost peaceful. She slowly stroked Abelas’ cheek while her other hand grabbed onto his, and he gave a contented hum. They stayed like that for a while, until Amaya remembered she had to flip the hourglass. As she pulled away Abelas gave a small whine in his sleep before settling down again. Amaya kept her eyes on him even as she stood at the desk, turning the hourglass over.

_Creators, I hope he doesn’t die._

It suddenly occurred to her that he was of the ancient Elvhen. How would the darkspawn Taint affect an immortal? The first Blight was hundreds of years after Elvhenan; the elves who wrote the spell in her book had been mortal. Perhaps the spell wouldn’t even work on an immortal--maybe there was no need for it. It was possible that the Taint would only cause a temporary illness in Abelas, like a terrible flu. Or maybe being immortal didn’t matter--the sickness would take him anyway. Maybe instead, it would just take longer to kill him; he would suffer longer. The spell would only prolong that, reducing the symptoms a bit but only delaying the inevitable.

 _Should I even use it? Would he want to live those few extra days, months, or maybe years if he would be in pain the whole time?_ Suddenly it didn’t seem quite right to decide Abelas’ fate for him.

_I still have almost a whole day before the potion will be ready. Maybe he’ll wake up before then and I can ask him about it first._

Amaya offered up a prayer to Mythal and the other Creators before going back over to her couch and picking up the letter from her mother.

_Da’avise,_

_We received your letter attached to the horn of one of our halla who had gotten lost--Rena. When she returned to us it was obvious that she had been attacked by an animal, possibly a wolf, but the wounds had been healed before her coat had even begun to grown back._

_We were shocked to hear about all that has happened to you. I hope you are truly okay and that you aren’t lying to keep us from worrying. I don’t know what to think about the Temple of Mythal and the Well of Sorrows. Mythal murdered, betrayed by the other Creators? It doesn’t seem like it could be true. How can you murder a goddess? Do you remember the stories Ha’hren used to tell you children about Mythal? That she would steal the bodies of young girls? All stories are based on a kernel of truth, da’len, even scary bedtime stories told to children. Please be careful with the power from the vir’abelasan. You don’t know what hold Mythal has over you now. Murdered or not, she is a just but vengeful goddess and she may punish you for taking the Well._

_You say that the sentinel, Abelas, is not mistreating you. I hope this is true. It seems that it is his desire to see you master these powers, so you will do well to listen to him. Please try to hold your tongue, for you do not know what he may do to you in anger. I know you can defend yourself, but his magic is unknown to us and could even rival that of Corypheus. If you complete his training and he still does not release you, you must make your own way out. You know that we cannot spare our hunters to go search for you, but I have sent Touren to help the Inquisition in whatever way he can. I sent strict instructions to your advisors that he is not to leave Skyhold; I will not lose another child to this cause. I know that you will make it through this, da’lath. You are the strongest person I know, and I am so proud to call you my daughter. I will come to Skyhold to see you when I have news of your return._

_Touren and the rest of the Clan send their love. Please stay safe and continue your prayers and offerings._

_Ar lath ma. Tuelanan ama na._

_Mamae_

The tears flowed even more freely now than they had before. Amaya covered her mouth with her hand as she sobbed. Before the Well of Sorrows it had been months since she’d heard from her Clan, and her mother’s words of encouragement meant absolutely everything to her. She clutched the letter to her chest, hugging it as if she could transfer the gesture to Deshanna.

Amaya looked up through the top of one of the stained glass windows, offering her words to the sky, “Ar lath ma, mamae.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translations from Project Elvhen.
> 
> Da'avise: little flame  
> da'lath: little love  
> Ar lath ma: I love you  
> Tuelanan ama na: Creators guide you
> 
> Varric's nicknames:
> 
> Fireball: Amaya (because she's small and fiesty but also loves flame magic)  
> Ruffles: Josephine  
> Nightingale: Leliana  
> Curly: Cullen  
> Seeker: Cassandra  
> Tiny: Iron Bull  
> Buttercup: Sera  
> Chuckles: Solas  
> Sparkler: Dorian  
> Iron Lady: Vivienne  
> Hero: Blackwall  
> Kid: Cole  
> Choir Boy: Sebastian  
> Daisy: Merrill  
> Broody: Fenris  
> Rivaini: Isabela


	11. Comfort

Amaya was roused from sleep in the middle of the night by loud groans coming from the bed. She immediately rose and ran to Abelas’ side. He was sweating and hot to the touch, but was shivering uncontrollably. His teeth chattered in between bouts of groaning, though it was apparent that he was still asleep. _His fever must be getting worse if he has chills like this_ , Amaya thought. She wiped the sweat from his brow and gave him more fever medicine, then reconfigured the blankets around his body. He seemed to be somewhat comforted until Amaya started to pull away. Abelas let out a loud whine of protest when she left, so she sat down next to him on the bed and began stroking his hair. He turned his body towards her, rolling over onto his side. He continued to shiver, though he had quieted. Several minutes passed and Amaya’s hand began to slow as her body flirted with sleep. Abelas reached up to take her hand. She was startled when he gave it a gentle tug, causing her to fall over so that she was lying next to him. She tried to get back up but Abelas quickly moved closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. She turned her head to look at him and was surprised to see he was still asleep.

At first Amaya tried to pull away, knowing that Abelas would never consciously do something like this. If he awoke to find her next to him, he would surely think that she had instigated it. He pulled her tighter against him, though his hold was weak with his injured arm. She noticed he was shivering less and realized he was actually clinging to her for warmth. Though it was against her better judgement, she didn’t want to deny him this comfort, so she carefully pulled back the blankets and slid under them. She could feel the hard muscles of his torso as she leaned back against him, his bare skin touching hers where it wasn’t covered by her loose nightgown. Abelas let out a contented sigh, the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck sending shivers down her spine. Though she usually wasn’t much for cuddling, it felt good to be held by someone after so long. She felt grounded in a way she hadn’t since before the Inquisition, and that scared her. This was likely only only a one-time occurrence, or at least a temporary one, until Abelas got better. Amaya twined her fingers with his as they rested over her hip. She tried to stay awake, to enjoy the feeling while it lasted, but she was too relaxed and exhausted; she’d drifted off before she’d even realized it.

\-----

“Amaya?” Abelas’ voice was rough, thick with sleep and hoarse from disuse.

Without opening her eyes, it took Amaya several moments to realize that Abelas’ voice was right in her ear, the solid warmth of his body pressed up against hers. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up in time to catch Abelas trying to do the same, grimacing through the pain of lifting himself up with his injured arm and trying to move his broken leg. Amaya reached out to help him but he ignored her, letting out a pained grunt as he finally righted himself. The two stared at each other, wide-eyed and speechless. Abelas removed the covers and looked down at his body, taking in the broken leg, the bruises, and the huge bandage on his shoulder. Finally, he looked back at Amaya.

“What happened?” He asked brusquely.

“I was just about to ask you that same question.” She replied, somewhat irritated. “You came back a day and a half ago. I found blood by the Eluvian, and you were passed out at the entrance to my room. It looked like you were attacked. Your leg was broken, the bone shattered and sticking through the skin. Your shoulder had a huge gash in it, and the wound seems to be...poisoning you. You had some other smaller injuries, broken ribs, and you’ve had a very bad fever.” Amaya summarized.

“But why are we in your bed together?”

Amaya gave a nervous laugh. “Um...last night, you had terrible chills from your fever. You reached out to me and I sat with you, then you pulled me close to you. For warmth. I stayed to comfort you.” She said quietly.

Abelas’ pupils dilated at her words. Whether from surprise, embarrassment, or both, Amaya couldn’t tell.

“I...you gave me herbs for my fever? I can still taste them.” He said, running his tongue along the inside of his mouth.

Amaya nodded.

“And the other injuries? You treated them?” Abelas asked skeptically.

“Well you certainly didn’t do it, and I don’t see anyone else here.” Amaya snapped.

Abelas began unwrapping the bandages around his leg. Amaya tried to stop him but he swatted her hand away. Once his leg was revealed he exhaled sharply, the severity of his injury finally apparent to him. He did the same with the wound on his shoulder, his eyes going wide as he took in the black lines of his veins snaking away from the injury. He swallowed thickly. He hovered his hands over his leg, much as Amaya had done, and tried casting a spell. Amaya could feel the persistent pull on the Fade, but there was no mana flowing. Abelas cursed under his breath, the strain of his attempt manifesting in the grit of his teeth and the wrinkles on his forehead. He gave up, letting go of the Fade and instead reaching out to take the glass of water Amaya offered him.

“Your body is healing, and whatever poison is seeping into your veins is draining your energy. Don’t push yourself. I’ll help with your treatment.” She tried to be reassuring as she roughly rewrapped his bandages.

“I could heal an injury such as this in hours!” Abelas growled at her.

“This is the best I could do! You’re welcome, by the way, for saving your stupid life.” Amaya huffed. She crossed her arms in front of her, turning away from Abelas and scrunching up her face.

“Do not act like a petulant child. I may still perish. I can feel the poison in my veins, burning, consuming me. Without my mana, I am powerless.” Uncertainty and exhaustion weakened Abelas’ normally stoic tone. He sighed.

“I think I can help you,” Amaya offered, “But I need to know what happened first.” She sat down on the edge of the bed.

Abelas closed his eyes, groaning as he rubbed his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand.

“I recall retrieving your letters and returning to the village…” He started, his features crinkling as he forced himself to remember. “I could tell there was something wrong as I approached. There were no farmers in the fields, no children playing on the path. All was silent until I neared the center of the village. I could hear yelling, urgent and scared. I began to run towards them and I heard the clashing of weapons. In the distance I could see smoke.”

Abelas paused to gulp down the rest of the water Amaya had given him. He leaned back against the padded headboard, his eyes wide and staring straight ahead. Amaya moved a little closer to him.

“When I reached the village proper, I saw them. Hideous creatures, smelling of fire and death. The men of the village were fighting them with whatever weapons they could find. The women and children were hiding in their houses. I joined the fight, though I did not have my bow and arrows with me. I sent spells in every direction, taking the darkspawn down as quickly as I could. When all of the creatures had fallen, fewer than ten of the villagers had been injured. One of them perished.”

Abelas turned his head, his eyes growing wistful. “If I had not arrived when I did, it would have been much worse.”

Amaya poured him another glass of water, which he drank in one gulp.

“Once the darkspawn were defeated and the village was safe, a woman came running out of her house with a child in her arms. He was obviously very ill. The woman confirmed my suspicions. ‘Please, Ser Elf, my son was bitten by one of the darkspawn. I’m afraid he has the Taint,’ she begged for my assistance. As the bite was shallow and fresh, I was able to heal the wound and filter the darkspawn Taint from the child’s blood. Afterward, I went to help the villagers seal the hole that the darkspawn had come through. The villagers thanked me, and I left.”

Amaya just stared at him, obviously confused about how he had returned in such a state if the darkspawn had been defeated so easily. However, she held her tongue, allowing Abelas to tell his story.

“On my way through the forest I encountered a darkspawn that had not been in the village with the others. It looked like an ogre, but twice as large. It must have been a hybrid of some sort. Only I stood between it and the village. My mana was still quite low after healing the child and sealing the darkspawn tunnel. I ran, luring the monstrosity deeper into the woods, but it was quicker than I anticipated. It picked me up in its giant hand and I cast what weaker spells I could at it. The creature grew angry and brought me up towards its face. Before I could react, it bit into my shoulder. I reached into my belt and grabbed my dagger, slicing through its mouth and cheek. In a pained rage it threw me onto the ground. I heard the sickening snap of broken bones but I was numb.

“I noticed a downed tree on the path and limped toward it. The ogre witnessed my escape and followed suit. Right before it reached the tree, I used to last of my mana to cast a flame spell into its eyes. Blinded, it tripped over the tree and landed on the ground next to me. It was unconscious, but still breathing. I thrust my dagger through its chest, then slashed its throat. With the beast slain, I crawled back to the Eluvian. That is all I can remember.”

He was still staring off into the distance. Amaya looked at Abelas with wide eyes. “So the voices were right. You’ve been infected with the Taint.” She said solemnly.

“The voices?” Abelas asked, incredulous, “From the vir’abelasan? They told you this?”

Amaya nodded. “I found a spell that’s supposed to delay the effects of the sickness. I made the potion yesterday and I was going to use it today, but I’m not sure how the Taint or this treatment will work on an immortal.”

Abelas stared down at his lap. “The Taint affects immortals just as it does mortal men. The illness simply takes longer to kill us or turn us into mindless ghouls. The spell you speak of will work, but will only give me several months before the inevitable. I am afraid that I will die, da’len.”

Amaya moved closer to him, sitting fully on the bed, and tentatively took his hand. He cocked his head and looked at her, but said nothing. She looked at him, eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “But you cured the child in the village,” She protested, her voice beginning to crack, “If we can get you well enough to restore your mana, you can cure yourself!”

Abelas gave a grim smile. “Da’len, the child had only been _bitten_ by the darkspawn. His infection was from the saliva, and therefore much weaker than an infection of the blood. It was curable. The spell I used on him was a version of the spell you plan to use on me. While I was also bitten, it is highly likely that darkspawn blood entered my wounds during my battle with the ogre. I cannot be cured.”

Hot tears fell down Amaya’s cheeks. She twined her fingers with Abelas’. “But...there’s a chance you were only infected with the saliva...right?” Her voice quavered. “Will the spell cure you then?”

“Yes, da’len. If I was not Tainted by darkspawn blood, the spell will cure me. It will be several weeks before we know for sure, as this spell takes longer to take effect in immortals.” He squeezed Amaya’s hand.

Amaya jumped off the bed. “Then what are we waiting for?” She shouted. She ran to grab the potion that had been stewing overnight. She give it a quick stir, then shoved the bottle into Abelas’ hand. As he drank, she picked up the book with the spell in it and began to cast, reading the words as her mana flowed into Abelas. Once he had drained the bottle it fell from his hand; his eyes went white and his body stiffened. Though she was concerned, Amaya didn’t falter, chanting the words and pouring every ounce of magic she could into the spell. Abelas began to have tremors, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. Amaya finished the spell, and after a few moments Abelas was back to normal, though his chest was heaving as if he were out of breath.

Amaya threw the book aside and ran to him, looking into his eyes. “Are you okay? How do you feel?” She urged.

“My fever has broken.” Abelas replied matter-of-factly, “And I do not feel the burning in my veins.”

Amaya grinned, hopeful.

“Da’len, we will need to wait several weeks to see if the spell has cured me or simply delayed my death. If the blackness disappears from my veins, it will mean I have been cured.”

Abelas inhaled deeply. “For now, let us focus on healing my other injuries.”

His stomach growled.

“I suppose you’ll need to eat something as well.” Amaya chuckled. She took Abelas’ pack to the kitchen to put away the supplies and prepared breakfast for the both of them. She’d moved a tall, long occasional table so that he could eat in bed. Amaya brought her plate over to the couch.

As they ate, she tried to make conversation. “Thank you for getting those letters for me.”

“I told you that I would.” Abelas replied in between giant bites of food. He’d been ravenous.

Amaya pushed the food around on her plate. “I know, but it must have been complicated. Traveling who knows how far to retrieve the letters without anyone discovering you. I assume you had help picking them up?”

Abelas let out a wry laugh. “I do not require assistance to perform such a simple task.”

Amaya let out an exasperated sigh. “I _meant_ that you probably had someone pick up the letters for you so that you wouldn’t be caught or followed. There’s no doubt your dead drops were being watched.”

Abelas put his fork down on his now empty plate and looked directly at Amaya. “If I had sent others in my stead, do you not think they would have been apprehended or followed? Then they could have lead your would-be rescuers straight to me.” He paused, a small smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth. “No, da’len, I work alone. There are many ways to move around this world unseen.”

Amaya laughed softly, her cheeks dimpling from a delicate smile. “I should have known.”

She finished her meal and brought their empty plates to the kitchen to wash. When she returned, Abelas had unwrapped his bandages and was trying to cast a spell again. She grabbed a basin of water, some healing poultice, and fresh bandages, setting them down on the table next to Abelas. She waited until he was too worn out to keep trying, this attempt as unsuccessful as the first. He clenched his fists and banged them on the table, immediately wincing as pain shot through his injured arm.

Amaya snorted. She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth and nose, her eyes wide. She quickly composed herself. “Sorry.” She said quietly. “You need some help with that?”

Abelas shot her a deadly glare, but gave a huff and a microscopic nod that translated to “as much as I wish I did not, I do.”

Amaya went through the process of cleaning, rebandaging, and casting healing magic over Abelas’ wounds.

“Thank you for the bow and quiver,” Amaya said as she applied poultice to his leg, “I noticed the initials engraved on them--that was a really nice thing to do.”

Abelas grit his teeth from the sting of the poultice. “It was nothing.”

“It was not nothing!” Amaya insisted.

Abelas sighed. “They were lying around in one of the storage rooms here. I just cleaned them up for you.”

“Even if you already had the bow and quiver, you still had to go through the trouble of carving and embossing my initials onto everything!” She applied more medicine to Abelas’ leg, pressing much harder than she needed to and causing him to hiss in pain.

“I did not engrave them for you!” Abelas snapped at her.

Amaya paused, her lips parted around an unspoken question.

“The bow and quiver were mine.” Abelas said quietly. “I had to leave them behind when I became a sentinel, as we were not allowed to have any possessions. I found them here and thought you might like them.”

Amaya had stopped what she was doing, her hands resting idly on the table. “I… Ma serannas, Abelas.” She said, unconsciously bowing her head in his direction. “They are gifts I will treasure forever.”

“Sathem.” Abelas replied. “Now can you finish tending to my wounds, please? I would like to rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the kind of table Amaya put over the bed for Abelas.](http://st.hzcdn.com/simgs/dc414bc10c90f444_4-3690/traditional-bedroom.jpg)  
>   
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your comments, kudos, appreciation and support! I sometimes feel like giving up on this but knowing there are at least a few people who enjoy my silly story keeps me going. ♥  
> P.S. Birba where are you??? Are you still reading? I miss hearing from you!


	12. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *in which I get very frustrated and uncomfortable trying to write lore that will at least seem plausible against the canon lore*

While Abelas slept, Amaya did some cleaning up, prepared some ingredients she would use for dinner later, and settled down on the couch to read some of the texts from the library. She was still reading when Abelas awoke, and was so absorbed in the book that she did not notice him stir.

“What are you reading?” Abelas asked, wiping sleep from his eyes.

Amaya almost jumped off the couch, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. She quickly closed the book she had been reading. Luckily it had nothing on the cover, so Abelas couldn’t tell what it was..

“Oh, just a book about shemlen history.” She lied, hoping he would lose interest and drop the subject.

Abelas gave her a sideways glance. “Really? That sounds fascinating. Would you read some of it to me?” He asked.

Amaya faked a smile. “Sure. Maybe later. First I want to get you cleaned up.” She tried to sound casual.

She stood up and tossed the book on the couch, then watched in horror as it opened, revealing the page she had been looking at. It was a very detailed image of a woman being tied up in intricate knots, being held on her lover’s lap as they engaged in coitus. Amaya had dog-eared the page in the sex manual for...future reference. She immediately summoned a wind to blow the book closed, but it was too late. Abelas stared at her, his eyes gleaming and his mouth forming a perfect “O.” He looked halfway between amused and mortified. Amaya laughed it off and went to the bathing chamber. She pulled a chair over to the sink, then filled a big basin with water.

“Come on,” Amaya said as she returned to Abelas, “I’ll help you over to the bathing chamber.” Reluctantly, he turned so that his legs hung over the side of the bed. Amaya snaked her arm under his and across his back, encouraging him to put his arm around her shoulders and lean into her. At first he was hesitant, trying to put both his feet down and walk without her, but as soon as he put his injured leg on the ground he collapsed from the pain. Amaya caught him, steadying him as he stood once again, this time on just his good leg. She helped him hop over to the bathing chamber on the other side of the room, then sat him down in the chair next to the sink.

“Lean your head back.” Amaya commanded.

Abelas gave her a venomous look, his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Please.” She amended.

He did as she asked, and she ran the faucet, waiting for the water to heat (no doubt the plumbing was magical), then lifted Abelas’ long white hair under the running water. Once his hair was wet, she went about washing it with a bar of soap. Abelas closed his eyes, relaxing as Amaya massaged his scalp. She rinsed his hair, making sure all the sweat and grime were removed, then washed it again with a creamier, liquid soap scented with perfume. This she left in his hair, piling it up on top of his head before she moved over to grab the basin. She dipped a cloth in the water and lathered it up with soap, then started to wipe Abelas down.

“HMPH.” Abelas grunted, reaching to grab the cloth from Amaya’s hand. “I am fully capable of washing myself, thank you.”

Amaya remained silent, watching as Abelas used his uninjured right arm to clean the left side of his body. When it came time to switch sides, Abelas tried to lift his injured arm but grimaced in pain. Amaya smiled knowingly, reaching out to take the cloth, and began to wash the right side of his body, his back, and the other areas Abelas had missed. She stayed away from his smallclothes, instead handing him the cloth back as well as a towel and turning her head. She could hear Abelas removing his smallclothes, then washing, then finally trying to wrap the towel around himself without putting weight on his injured leg.

“I am finished.” Abelas said flatly, throwing the cloth back into the basin of water.

Amaya turned, making sure all the blood and muck had been washed off, then pulled Abelas’ hair back into the sink to rinse out the softening soap. She squeezed the excess water out of his hair before patting it down with a towel. Loose and wet, it hung down to the middle of his back. Gently, Amaya took her comb and began teasing out the knots in his hair. Other than the occasional grunt when she pulled too hard, Abelas remained silent. He held his hands over his injured leg, trying to inconspicuously cast another healing spell on the wound. Amaya could feel the smallest amount of mana being pulled from the Fade, but it was not even enough to heal a papercut.

“I know what you’re doing.” Amaya said. “You don’t have to try and hide it.”

Abelas moved his hands away from his leg.

“You’re going to wear yourself out even more the more you keep trying.” She added.

Abelas sighed.

Now that the tangles were free from Abelas’ hair, Amaya began to weave it into his usual braid. “I’m sorry I’m not that great of a healer. My mother is the best healer I’ve ever seen. She tried to teach me, but I could never master it.” Amaya said as she worked.

Abelas fidgeted in his chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “Your mother is what you call the Keeper of your Clan, correct?” He finally asked.

“Yes.” Amaya replied.

“And what about your father? Is he gifted with magic as well?”

“I...I don’t know. I don’t think so. Mamae said he was the lead hunter for another Clan. They met in the woods when she was out collecting herbs--she was just the Clan’s First then. Their relationship would have been...frowned upon. Neither could leave their Clan due to their positions, so their love affair was a secret. His Clan was settled close to hers, so they met every night for a few blissful weeks. Then his Clan moved on, and she never saw him again. A month later Mamae found out she was with child.” Amaya explained.

She felt a twinge in her chest recalling the story she had begged her mother to tell her hundreds of times. Her eyes grew wistful as she gazed out the window. “I wish I could have met him, at least once. He doesn’t even know I exist.”

Abelas’ mouth was slightly open as he listened to Amaya’s story. Finally, after what seemed like careful consideration, he spoke. “I am sorry that you did not know your father. It must have been very difficult for you.”

“It wasn’t so bad. I never knew any different, you know?” Amaya gave a weak laugh.

“Besides,” she continued, “Touren’s father was kind of like my Papae. I even called him that when I was little.” She smiled warmly at the memory. “As the lead hunter of our Clan, Hunter Variel was very close to my mother. His wife left when Touren was a baby. Everyone claims that they don’t know why she left, but I think they just don’t want to tell us.”

Amaya sighed, tying Abelas’ braid with a leather band. “My mother and Variel raised Touren and I together, as he was only one month older than I was. So I didn’t really miss out on having a father.”

She helped Abelas up out of the chair and back over to the bed. She gazed down at the towel around his waist. “So, where can I find some clean clothes for you?”

Abelas told her there was a closet near the kitchen that held an armoire with some clothes in it. She fetched him a sleeveless tunic, some smallclothes, and a pair of loose, short breeches. The smalls she let him put on himself, but she helped him with the breeches and the tunic. Once he was dressed, she pulled the covers back over him.

“What about you?” She asked, almost cautiously, “What was your family like before you came to the Temple?” She sat down on the edge of the bed.

Abelas inhaled deeply. “I do not remember my family. I was only an infant when I was given to Mythal.” He said, his voice a deep monotone.

Amaya stared at him, eyes wide and eyebrows curving downward.

“Children were not treasured by my people as they are today.” Abelas explained. “When you are immortal, and your offspring are immortal, new life does not hold the same value. You have endless opportunities to have more children, so an individual child is not cherished. You have an eternity to spend with your child if you choose, so raising infants and children is not a valued endeavor.

"Instead, many couples would raise only their first child from birth. Subsequent children were sent away, mostly to temples as tributes to the Evanuris--those you call ‘Creators’--to be educated and to serve their respective patrons. In return, the Evanuris would grant a boon to the couple.”

Amaya’s jaw dropped. “So you never knew your parents?”

Abelas gave a biting reply. “No, why would I? That is simply how children were handled back then. The priests and priestesses of Mythal raised me and other children like me. They were my family and I knew nothing else.”

“Did you love them?” She asked.

Abelas looked away, leaning back against the pillows and padded headboard. “No. We had a certain...affection…for each other, but our only love was for Mythal.”

“That sounds...lonely.” Amaya said quietly.

“My life has always been such.” Abelas replied.

Unsure what to do, Amaya timidly placed her hand on Abelas’ arm. He gave no response.

“Are you hungry?” She asked after a while.

He nodded.

\-----

After they ate, Amaya brought in what appeared to be an ancient chess set that she’d found in the library.

Abelas’ eyes sparkled when she set it down on the table in front of him. “Do you know how to play?” He asked.

Amaya shook her head. “I can play modern chess. I’ve played Cullen and Dorian quite a few times. But I don’t know this version.” She began placing the pieces on the board where she thought they ought to go.

Abelas chuckled, giving Amaya a rare smile. “That is quite apparent. You’re placing the pieces incorrectly.”

Amaya stuck out her bottom lip and huffed, briefly blowing away the strands of hair that had fallen in her face.

“Would you like me to teach you, lan-sila?” Abelas asked, an amused smirk hanging on his lips.

“Fine.” She pouted, then sat down on the bed across from him.

He proceeded to place the pieces on the board, explaining what each piece was and what moves it could make. He also showed her that some of the pieces twisted apart into two and three smaller parts.

“These pieces, when captured by the opponent, are not immediately out of play.” Abelas explained. “The topmost part is twisted off, and the remainder is reset on a special place on the board.” He pointed to a series of different colored squares. “These pieces are in play until all of their parts are captured. In other words, they have multiple lives.”

“This sounds too complicated already.” Amaya whined.

“When you are immortal, it is easy to spend days or weeks on one match. The rules are complicated so as not to be boring, lan-sila.” Abelas replied.

“Okay well can we just start playing then?” She asked impatiently.

“Very well. You will begin.”

Amaya moved to pick up a piece that looked like a cat.

“Tsst.” Abelas admonished, shaking his head. “That piece cannot move first.”

She put the piece back down, frowning at her opponent.

Instead she picked up the wolf piece, trying to move it diagonally.

“Tsst.” Another incorrect move. She moved it straight ahead. “Tsst.” Two forward and one right. _Tsst._ She hovered the piece over every available spot, waiting for one of the moves to be correct. _Tsst. Tsst. Tsst. Tsst._

Amaya slammed the piece back down where it started. “What in the Void can I do with this stupid piece?!” She yelled at Abelas.

He picked up the wolf piece, and the piece that looked like a statue of Mythal, and switched them. “And you will call me ha’hren while I am instructing you.” He said, his tone laced with the slightest hint of smugness.

Amaya just stared at him, jaw wide open.

“As you wish, _ha’hren._ ” She said mockingly. “It’s your move.”

Abelas thought for a moment, the tiniest of grins turning up the corners of his mouth. Finally, he made a move that made seemingly no sense.

She picked up the same type of piece Abelas had, trying to mirror his move. She set the piece down, expecting him to correct her, but he remained silent.

Feeling bold, Amaya decided to ask Abelas something that had been bugging her. “Solas told me that vallaslin were originally slave markings. Nobles would mark their slaves with the symbol of the Creator they were loyal to. Were you a slave?”

Abelas looked up quickly from the game board, almost knocking over the piece he was going to move. “The definition of a slave is a complicated one. I was given to the Temple of Mythal, much as shemlen children are given to their ‘Chantry’ to study and become priests or Templars.”

He took a deep breath. “Vallaslin were first and foremost a tribute, only taken by faithful servants. It was not until later that they were corrupted to mark slaves. I served no noble, only Mythal. Serving in the temple was originally a choice, made either by the parents or the initiate themselves.”

Abelas quickly moved his game piece. “Eventually the nobles started marking their slaves, and as more of us went into uthenara, the original purpose of the vallaslin was forgotten. Nobles seeking favor with the Evanuris would ‘give’ slaves to the temples, though they were always sentinels and could never become priests. Nobles often still gave their children to the temples, but slaves did not have that choice for their offspring.”

He paused, watching Amaya as she contemplated her next move. He only had to correct her once. After she moved her piece and looked back up at him, he gestured towards the stack of books on her table. “Did you not read those books on the Evanuris? This should have all been explained in those texts.”

Amaya frowned. “No. I hadn’t gotten to those books yet.”

Abelas cast an eye towards the sex book still sitting on the couch. “I see.”

“I’ll have you know I have been reading plenty of other books!” Amaya snapped.

Abelas raised his eyes from the game briefly to look at her. “Such as?” He asked coolly.

“I read some books on archery, and a great text on the plants of ancient Elvhenan.” She replied, defending her case.

“Mmmm.” Abelas held his chin in his hand, examining the game board.

“I also read a lot of interesting things about the priests and temples of Mythal.”

Abelas sat up against the headboard.

“I learned about the test for the vir’abelasan, and the fate of those who failed too many times.” She added.

“I see.” Abelas had tented his fingers in front of him.

“Did you choose to be a sentinel?” She asked. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper, “Or were you forced to be one after failing the test?”

Abelas moved one of his pieces, taking out Amaya’s halla.

“Neither.” He finally replied, his voice like frozen steel. “Your move.”

When Amaya realized that he was not going to elaborate, she picked up a game piece and started to move it. Rather than ‘Tsst’-ing her when she tried to make an incorrect move, Abelas snatched the piece away from her and moved it to the correct spot.

Amaya inhaled sharply, clenching her teeth as she stood up from the bed. “You want to play by yourself? Fine. Have fun.” She bit out.

She grabbed her stack of books and stomped out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstoriesssssssss yay
> 
> Thank you again (as always!) for all of the support and love wow I never thought I would suck so many of you in to my little trash heap <3


	13. Climbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> -Self harm

Amaya stormed out to the courtyard, finding a shady spot on the grass and setting her books down. She lied down on her stomach, grabbing one of the books and opening it in front of her. It was a text on the culture and customs of Arlathan. After reading the table of contents, Amaya skipped to the chapter on courting rituals.

Courting was not undertaken unless a couple wished to be bonded. For the immortal Elvhen, bonding really was an eternal promise, and not taken into lightly. Many Elvhen went their whole lives without formally bonding, instead having sexual encounters and even centuries-long affairs with multiple partners. In contrast was the slow progression of acceptable physical contact during courting--simple touches on the arms or shoulders at first, leading up to holding hands, touches on the back, then the neck, then the face and hair, and so on. A kiss was reserved for the later, more serious stages of courting. It was also considered incredibly forward to refer to your chosen bondmate by their given name, and to do so signaled a shift from the formal to the intimate.

One of the biggest steps when one wished to become bonded was to give your chosen partner a gift. The more personal the gift, the better. An item that holds great sentimental value to you is considered the greatest of all courting gifts. If your partner accepts the gift and gives you one in return, you have promised each other that you will become bonded--somewhat like an engagement. Amaya looked up from the text, raising an eyebrow. She wondered briefly if Abelas giving her the bow and quiver had been a gesture of… _No. Don’t be ridiculous. He was just passing off some of his old junk that he found._ Still, the thought lingered in her mind. _Maybe it would explain… the kiss… No. Stop it._

Amaya had tried not to think about the kiss while Abelas was gone. Now that he was back and not bleeding to death, she found it hard not to think about it every time she glanced at his lips or looked into his eyes. Every time she touched him, whether to change his bandages, to help him bathe, or just brushing against his arm by accident, she felt the same electricity that had coursed through her when they kissed.

Suddenly restless, Amaya closed the book and rose up on her feet, swinging her arms in front of her and trying to shake off her anxious energy. She looked up at the ancient ironwood tree, its thick branches reaching out across the courtyard, easily three times as long as she was tall. The tree was so huge she couldn’t even see the top of it from underneath. Without thinking, she reached up to the closest branch and lifted herself up onto it, careful to avoid the runes carved around the wide trunk of the tree. The tree’s bark was rough, but not brittle, full of knots, and gave her the perfect grip for climbing. Before she even realized it, Amaya was 20 feet off the ground, the top of the tree still infinitely distant. Her body propelled itself upward, as if controlled by some unseen force; her frustration and anxiety fueled her, seeking an outlet as she climbed ever higher. The knotted bark scraped against her palms, her knees, her feet, but the pain only made her push harder.

It felt like time had stopped as Amaya continued her ascent, the strange compulsion to climb only growing stronger the higher she rose. It may have been half an hour before she finally reached the topmost branches. Exhausted, chest heaving, and covered in sweat, Amaya pulled herself up above the canopy of the tree. She sat down on the highest branch, hanging her legs over the edge. She couldn’t even see the ground beneath her, the branches were so dense. From this spot she could see the entire grounds of the temple--much larger than she had originally thought. Each corner of the grounds seemed to lead to a different maze, each one as complicated and well-hidden as the Eluvian one. The maze to the great Eluvian was over to the west, and she couldn’t tell what was at the center of the next two, but she let out a loud gasp, almost falling from her branch, when she saw the fourth maze.

At its center was a small herd of halla. Amaya made a squealing noise, squinting to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things. The halla were grazing in a large field at the center of the maze. There were plenty of trees for shade, a small stream running through the field, and even a modest barn, likely built to house the animals in foul weather. Amaya counted seven halla--five adults and two fawns. She felt an immediate pang of homesickness watching the animals’ graceful movements, so serene and blissful. From the top of the tree she could see the path through the maze, but she had no way draw a map. She glanced at her fingernails, then rolled up the sleeve of her tunic. Amaya summoned a tiny flame to the tip of her nail, then drew the path through the maze onto her arm. When she was finished, the burn was quite swollen and incredibly painful, so she summoned a weak ice spell to dull the pain and reduce the swelling. She wrote the letter “H” underneath the little map, then proceeded to do the same on her other arm with the Eluvian maze, marking that with an “E.”

The sun had begun to set while Amaya was drawing her maps, and it was becoming difficult to see. Once the pain from her burns had subsided somewhat, she began her descent down the tree. This took much less time than climbing up, but she still did not make it to the ground until it was dark and the moon was full in the sky. She quickly gathered her books, then swung by the kitchen to pick up some bread and cheese before running over to check on Abelas. He had pushed the chess game away and was staring off into the distance, obviously deep in thought, when she entered the room. Amaya placed the books down gently, not wanting to startle him, and made a small noise to indicate she had returned. Abelas looked over to her, his expression one of complete ennui.

“Are you quite finished with your little tantrum, lan-sila?” He asked, though his tone said he didn’t really care about her answer.

Amaya felt her blood heat up again, but forced herself to calm down. “I brought some food.” She said, ignoring his question. She held out the bread and cheese.

Abelas nodded, and Amaya approached the bed. She set down the bread and cheese on Abelas’ table, picking up the chessboard and its pieces all at once and carrying them over to her desk. She returned, sitting on the bed with Abelas and ripping off bites of bread and cheese. They ate in silence until all of the food was gone. 

“You have scrapes on your hands.” Abelas noted.

“I climbed a tree.” Amaya replied, matching his stoic tone.

Abelas let out a small huff of air that she could have sworn was the beginning of a laugh, then quickly pressed his lips together to stifle it.

“What’s so funny?” Amaya asked.

“You take offense with me calling your outburst a childish tantrum, yet you continue to act like a child. Why would you bother climbing a tree?”

“Maybe I was angry because a certain ancient elf refuses to answer my questions and treats me like I’m an idiot when he’s supposed to be _teaching me_ a stupid game I’ve never played!” Amaya couldn’t keep the emotion out of her voice.

“Maybe it was the only way I could release my frustrations without destroying anything!”

Abelas crossed his arms in front of him, staring Amaya down. “Fine.” He replied curtly. “Ask me what you will. But I will not answer the question you asked me earlier.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, “Not today.”

Amaya moved the table away so that she could sit closer to Abelas on the bed. She sat down, knees underneath her and leaning to one side as she faced him. She briefly considered asking him about their kiss, but figured that would be another subject he would try to avoid for now. She shook the thought from her mind as the tinge of a blush warmed her cheeks. She stuck her tongue out between her lips, wiggling it unconsciously as she concentrated on what she wanted to know.

“What is your real name?” She asked, her deep curiosity obvious in her voice. “You said the bow and quiver were yours… So your Clan name must begin with an ‘L’?”

Abelas sighed. “My family name was Lealanen.”

“ _Those who shine_?” Amaya asked, skeptical. “That’s beautiful. It seems strange that they would name you Abelas with a family name like that.”

Abelas inhaled deeply through his nose. “My parents named me Amelan’u’vunen. I was not called Abelas until much later.”

“Amelan’u’vunen?” Amaya asked, even more incredulous. She had to hold back a laugh. “ _Keeper of the stars?_ You’re joking. Your name was _Keeper of the stars_ from the family of _Those who shine_? That’s so…”

“Flowery and pretentious?” Abelas offered. “Yes, it seems my parents thought themselves poetic.”

Amaya couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. She let out a small snort and immediately reached up to cover her mouth. “Sorry…” She whispered behind her hand, though she still wore a faint smile.

Abelas’ eyes went wide and his nostrils flared.

“I’m sorry!” Amaya insisted, “I didn’t mean it!” She stretched her arms out in front of her, palms towards Abelas, waving her hands back and forth. His eyes stayed focused on her right arm.

Abelas grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards him and turning her arm so that the inside of it faced up. Amaya’s sleeve had fallen when she covered her mouth, partially revealing her burns. He looked at the marks on her arm, then glared at Amaya, pupils dilating as he pulled up the sleeve on her other arm.

“What did you do to yourself?!” Abelas yelled.

Amaya tried to pull her arms away but Abelas gripped them tighter. She winced, her burns being pulled taut by the struggle. The wounds were still fresh and swollen, so it was not yet possible to discern what the markings meant.

Abelas lowered his voice to almost a whisper, pausing between each word for emphasis. “I _asked_ you a question, _Amaya._ _What_ did you _do_ to your _self?_ ” Speaking to her as if she were a misbehaving child. He adjusted his grip so that his palms were directly over her burns.

Amaya whimpered in pain at the contact. She had opened her mouth to answer his question but stopped when she felt him summoning mana. He channeled a weak healing spell into her arms, keeping his grip tight so that she couldn’t pull away.

“Stop!” Amaya cried. “You’ll rui--” She cut herself off before she could finish. “You need to save your mana!” She corrected herself. “Who knows how long it will take you to completely regenerate it now?” She tugged her arms again but she was no match for Abelas’ grip. “Please!” She begged.

Abelas stopped his spell but did not let go of her arms. “What were you going to say?” He demanded. “What am I ruining?”

Not wanting to give away her real reasoning, Amaya said the first thing that came to her mind.

“Everything!” She cried out, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She dropped her arms, her body curling forward into itself. “I’m just so tired of everything.” She sighed, deflated.

Abelas let go of her arms. He brought his hand to her chin, tilting her head up to face him. She sniffled quietly, her body rocking with silent sobs.

“Amaya.” He said softly, looking into her eyes. “Why did you burn yourself?” His eyes took on a tenderness Amaya had never seen before. His expression was almost… wounded.

“I didn’t do it to hurt myself.” She said, defiant. “I was drawing maps.”

Abelas raised his eyebrows, his lips lifting in into a slant. “Maps?”

Amaya shrugged her shoulders and let out a huge sigh. “Through the mazes. I saw the Eluvian and the halla from the top of the tree and I had no other way to draw a map to get to them.”

“The top of the tree?” Abelas’ brow furrowed. “Which tree?”

Amaya sniffed. “Which tree do you think? The ironwood tree.”

Abelas stared at her. “You climbed to the top of the ironwood tree.”

She nodded. “Why?”

“I had not realized you were such a skilled tree climber.” He replied.

Amaya let out a wry laugh. “When you grow up living almost exclusively near forests, you learn to climb pretty well. Besides, it was the only thing I could do to let out my frustration. I wanted to get as far away from you as possible, and the only way I can really easily go is up.”

Abelas frowned. “I am sorry. I upset you. It is not… easy… for me to be in this condition.”

“You think it’s easy for me? Being trapped here, with these voices in my head, and my only company a grumpy old elf?! An elf who heals me, acts like my teacher, then kisses me and acts like nothing happened?” Amaya snapped.

Abelas remained silent.

“UGHHH!” She groaned loudly. Angry, bitter tears fell from her eyes.

Abelas’ eyebrows lifted toward the center of his face, the corners of his eyes turning downward. He stared at Amaya as her frustration coursed through her, unable to act.

He opened his mouth to speak but found no words, his lips settling into a chastened frown. She gazed up at him through tear-stained eyes, and in an instant he was pulling her into his arms, as if he had been waiting forever to do so. He held her against his chest, the touch of his skin and the warmth of his body releasing something in Amaya. She began to sob openly, loudly, her whole body consumed by the act. All of the anger and sadness, frustration and fear, confusion and pain of the past months poured forth from her as Abelas squeezed her tight. He rubbed her back in small circles, never letting his arms leave her body. She was falling apart, and he was the only thing holding her together.

“And now you’re dying.” Amaya sobbed. “What am I going to do?”

“Shhhh… shhhhh…” Abelas comforted her, gently pressing his lips to the top of her head.

He held her until she stilled, her breaths slowing into heavy calm, his skin wet with her tears. Exhausted, she looked up at him. All of his features were softened, his eyes full, when he returned her gaze. He brought his thumbs to her cheeks, wiping her tears as he held her face in his hands.

“Ir abelas, Amaya.” He said so softly she could barely hear. “I did not mean to cause you pain.”

She closed her eyes, red and swollen from crying. Abelas pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead.

“Sleep.” He whispered.

Too tired to argue, Amaya curled her arm around his waist, resting her head on the side of his chest. He held her close, one hand on her head, twining his fingers in her hair, and the other wrapped around her back, securing her to him. In almost an instant, Amaya was asleep, breathing heavily against his skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know...I was all over the place with this chapter. I guess that's what happens when you only kinda sorta vaguely plan the plot ahead of time? I mean...suddenly there are halla?! Tree climbing? Where did I even get this??
> 
> Do you guys like my choice of Abelas' real name? I spent a lot of time on it so....yeah. 
> 
> Also there seem to be quite a lot more of you commenting/kudosing than usual...not sure where you all came from but welcome and thank you for reading/leaving feedback! Hopefully I don't scare you away with this random as heck chapter. (Does it even make sense? Please tell me honestly...I wanna fix it if it's too weird.)
> 
> ♥


	14. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the smut you're looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...No really, it's not. It gets super explicit but it's not the big scene you've all been waiting for.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter:
> 
> -Dubious consent/No consent
> 
> If that is a trigger or even a squick for you, the scene in question is between the "-----". Read around those and then read the End Notes, then decide you can handle the scene.
> 
> (Also, wow, 4 chapters within like 3 weeks...don't get used to this guys)

Amaya woke feeling warm and refreshed, if a little surprised. Her pillow and blanket had been replaced by Abelas’ body, his arms curled protectively around her, his steady heartbeat against her ear as she lay on his chest, his face nestled softly in her hair. His lungs rose and fell beneath her, steady and strong, his mind still wandering the Fade as he slept. She lifted her head just slightly so she could look at him, making sure not to disturb his rest. She let herself really look, his form mostly bare before her. The sunlight pouring in through the stained glass windows left shapes of colored light on his body, painting his ivory skin with splashes of color. She moved her gaze to examine his vallaslin. Even though she had seen it before, when treating Abelas’ wounds and helping him bathe, she had never really looked at the markings. The delicate lines from his face ran down the sides of his neck and around his shoulders, where they continued down his back; the lines becoming visible again as they curved around his slender hips before slanting down, the pattern following the V-shaped lines of his lower abdomen and disappearing beneath his breeches. His chest was bare save for the bruises along on his ribs and a myriad of scars, likely centuries older than she was. Amaya drew healing magic into her fingertips, cautiously tracing the bruises as she poured the spell into his skin. He sighed.

She looked at the wound on Abelas’ arm--the arm that he had wrapped around her side. The veins were still black, though she could have sworn they seemed a bit lighter. At least they didn’t look any worse. She rested her head back down against his chest, his warm, solid form grounding her. He stirred slightly, his mouth opening into a wide yawn as he stretched his arms out wide.

“Mmmm.” He mumbled, bringing his arms back to wrap around her once more. He nuzzled her hair, eyes still closed.

Amaya placed her hand on his face, her touch slow and hesitant as she ran her fingers down his jawline. Abelas turned his face toward her hand, pressing light kisses against her fingers. Still not fully awake, he moved down her hand to her palm, his lips following a trail down to her wrist where they were joined by his tongue. She sighed, unconsciously pressing her body into his. He dragged his teeth along the inside of her wrist, his canines digging deliciously into her skin. Her sharp intake of breath was enough to rouse him from his sleepy haze, and his eyes snapped open, staring at her as he quickly removed her wrist from his mouth. They laid there, staring at each other, still wrapped around each other, hearts beating fast and hard.

Abelas spoke first. “I apologize,” He said plainly, “I thought I was dreaming.”

“Well you’re not.” Amaya replied. “So what are you going to do?”

Abelas released her from his arms, moving as far from her as he could and avoiding her gaze. Amaya sat up, jaw slightly open as she shook her head. She stared at him in disbelief.

 _THWACK._ Amaya’s open hand collided with Abelas’ face. His head snapped in her direction and he reached up to rub his cheek, gaping at her.

“I am so sick of this!” She yelled. “First I’m ‘lan-sila’, just your student--okay, fine. Then it’s ‘da’len’, as if maybe I actually matter to you. Then you call me by my name and you _kiss me_ , then disappear and almost _die_ , and after your come back it’s like nothing even happened!”

She inhaled sharply. “Then last night I get mad and emotional so you apologize and cuddle up with me, and I’m Amaya again. But what happened just now, it’s only okay if you’re dreaming? And you have to distance yourself from me again, literally.”

She moved over to the opposite edge of the bed, turning as far away from Abelas as possible. She rubbed her hand with her thumb--she had slapped Abelas quite hard. She glanced down at her arm and noticed her burns had completely healed. There wasn’t even a scar to show they had been there.

“ _And_ you finished healing my burns while I was sleeping?” She snapped, turning to look at him once more. “I told you I needed those maps! And you just wasted the little mana you had regained. You’ve got to save all of your power so you can heal yourself!”

“You wounds did not require much mana to heal.” Abelas said quietly.

He reached over to the table and picked up a piece of paper. He handed it to Amaya.

“Maps?” She asked, “Why would you draw them for me?”

“I cannot prevent you from going to the mazes,” Abelas replied, “And I will not let you hurt yourself again.” His voice was soft, tinged with regret.

“Why do you even care?” Amaya asked.

“Do you think me so cold and callous that I would feel nothing when you are injured? That I would simply ignore the fact that you caused yourself physical harm? That you did so because of me?” Abelas retaliated.

Amaya glared at him, eyes narrowed and lip curled. “You are so egotistical!” She bit out. “How could you even think that this was about you?”

Abelas tried to compose himself as he replied. “You saw the mazes from the top of the tree and burned the maps into your skin. But you ran outside and climbed the tree because you were upset with me, correct? You would not have been in the tree if it weren’t for me. Ergo, it is my fault you hurt yourself.” He said with a sigh.

“Well you don’t need to feel guilty about it. I did it because I wanted to. It was a means to an end. Besides, the pain didn’t bother me. It actually made me feel a little better.” Amaya said.

“You will not do it again.” Abelas ordered.

“And what if I do?” She challenged.

“Then I will hurt _my_ self.” He replied.

“Ugh, fine!” Amaya huffed. “I won’t do it again. If you promise to be more open with me.”

“I shall try.” Abelas couldn’t hide the slight smile of relief that framed his lips.

“Why don’t you start by telling me how you feel about me?” She asked.

“I will answer your questions in the evening.” He said. “For now, there is something I would like to try with you.”

\-----

After eating some breakfast and casting healing spells on Abelas’ wounds, Amaya helped him over to the washroom to bathe. He insisted on bathing himself this time, so she left the basin of water and all of the bathing supplies with him and went back to her room. She laid down on the bed, her mind wandering to what he might have planned for her today. She imagined more ancient Elvhen board games and groaned inwardly. Or worse, he would force her to do the meditation practice they had done before. Maybe he would just have her read some of the books from the library to him. She hoped dearly that he wouldn’t choose _that_ book.

Amaya’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from outside. Abelas was still in the washroom, oblivious to the noise. She tried to see what was happening, but the stained glass windows didn’t provide a clear view. She ran outside, looking all around the courtyard for the source of the crash. There was another crash, closer this time, and she turned her head towards the sound. The noise wasn’t coming from the courtyard, but farther off, down one of the corridors. Amaya followed it, another crash banging out before she reached the source. There was a line of three broken doors down the hallway, and at the third door stood the source of the destruction. He was huge, taller than any person she’d ever seen, and barely breaking a sweat despite just breaking down three huge wooden doors with just his body. He grinned when he saw Amaya standing in the corridor, the smile reaching all the way up to his one visible eye. Though he was about ten feet away, he reached her in one stride, picking her up and wrapping her in a tight embrace.

“Boss! I’m so glad you’re okay!” Bull’s voice boomed in the empty hallway. He held Amaya out in front of him so he could look at her. “You are okay, right?” He asked.

She nodded, trying to process what had just happened. “Bull, what are you doing here? And why are you breaking all of these doors?” She asked.

Iron Bull set her down on the ground, but kept his hands on her. “What does it look like?” He asked. “I came to rescue you. How else was I gonna find you in this place?”

Amaya looked up into his one stormy eye. “Bull… you didn’t need to do that.” She said.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “You’re being held captive here, of course I’m gonna come save you!”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into one of the rooms--a bedroom or dormitory by the look of it. They sat down on the bed, taking each other in after so much time apart. Bull kept ahold of Amaya’s hand, his other hand stroking the soft strands of her hair. His gaze was warm and liquid as he spoke to her. His voice was soft. “I missed you, Kad-- err, Boss.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Amaya replied, “But how did you even get here?”

“The Chargers and I followed your shiny elf friend from the dead drop when he picked up our letter.” He said.

“No, he told me he went unseen. How could you have followed him?” She asked.

“He didn’t stay invisible the whole way back, did he?” Bull asked, annoyed.

“Well I don’t know…Probably not?” Amaya said. Her tone lacked its usual confidence.

“The Chargers and I waited with some of Red’s people, checking the dead drop every hour. Once the letter was gone and none of us had seen who took it, we all walked off in different directions from the drop. Skinner was eventually the one to see him when he reappeared, and she sent a raven with the direction he was headed. She followed him to that Eluvian in the woods but she had to keep her distance because of the ogre. By the time she reached the mirror it had closed, but he’d left behind some blood on the glass. She collected it, and Dalish was able to make a sort of phylactery out of it, which led us here. The rest of the group is outside, keeping guard.” Bull explained. His voice was flat.

“Who cares how I got here,” He added, bending down to press his forehead against Amaya’s, “I’m with you now and that’s all that matters.”

Bull brought his hand up to her face, lifting her jaw and pulling her towards him. He pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss, stealing the breath from her lungs. He pushed her down onto the bed, deepening the kiss, his mouth consuming hers hungrily.

“Fuck, I missed this so much.” Bull growled, moving his mouth down to her neck. He licked and sucked and bit, leaving her skin red and bruised. He pulled a silk scarf from one of his pockets and quickly tied her hands above her head. Amaya whined as he pulled her tunic up, revealing her bare chest. He immediately dove down to her breasts, squeezing one in his hand while wrapping his lips around the other. He began to kiss and suck, drawing a whimper from her. She cried out when he bit down on her nipple, laving the tiny bud before moving on to the other rosy peak. As he ravaged her breasts he slipped his fingers below the waistband of her leggings, teasing her.

Amaya’s mind cleared for a moment as she thought about Abelas. She had to get back to him; she couldn’t just let herself get carried away with Bull. She scooted up the bed, trying to roll over onto her side so that Bull would stop. Still, she couldn’t help the noises that she was making, her body betraying her even as she pulled away from him. His hand slid out of her leggings, though he was able to keep his mouth wrapped around her breast.

“Bull…” She started, gasping as he grabbed her hips and pulled her back towards him.

She tried to wiggle away but he kept a vice-grip on her, his fingers almost painful as they pressed against her hipbones.

“Bull!” She said louder, asserting herself. “Katoh. This isn’t the best place to do this.”

Bull sat up over her, grinning mischievously. “You’re right, Boss. Let’s go find Shiny and make him watch.”

She tried to laugh, covering her shock. “No, that’s not what I meant. Listen, Bull, I need to stay here. I can’t go back with you.”

“What?” He asked, his one pupil dilating. “No, it doesn’t matter. We’ll talk about this later. Are you gonna tell me where Shiny is or am I gonna have to break down more doors?”

She sighed. “I’ll tell you.”

Before she had a chance to continue, Bull picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. She directed him towards her bedroom, hoping Abelas was still bathing. Bull threw her onto the bed, then looked around the room.

“Where is he?” Bull asked.

“Amaya?” Abelas called from the washroom.

_Shit._

“Yes, my dear sweet shiny elf, I have returned, and I brought a friend!” Bull called out, doing his best impression of a woman’s voice.

Abelas limped out of the washroom using the makeshift crutch Amaya had found for him.

“Amaya, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Abelas asked.

His eyes blew open wide as he took in the scene--Amaya lying on the bed, hands tied and shirt lifted over her breasts, Iron Bull climbing on top of her.

Bull laughed as Abelas limped over to them, summoning whatever magic he could and throwing it at Bull. The lightning spell grazed Bull’s skin, sizzling quietly, and he just laughed louder. “You’re lookin’ a little worse for wear there, Shiny.”

“Abelas…” Amaya said softly, unsure what to do.

“Why don’t you join us?” Bull asked before capturing Amaya’s lips in a rough kiss.

She let out a small whine, unable to resist the effect he was having on her. When Bull released her mouth to focus on her breasts again, she looked over at Abelas, who was now climbing onto the bed. The gold of his irises was completely swallowed by black, his eyes intense as he watched Bull nip and suck on her nipples. Abelas moved up the bed, licking his lips before leaning down to kiss Amaya. She moaned softly into his mouth, his tongue finding its way to hers before he bit down on her bottom lip. Bull pulled off her breast with a POP, laughing at Abelas again.

“There you go, Shiny!” He encouraged.

Abelas moved slightly so that he could pull his breeches off, lips never leaving Amaya’s. Bull trailed his lips down her stomach, pulling down her leggings and smalls as he went. Abelas was still kissing her fiercely, his teeth and lips bruising her own. When he finally pulled away she gasped for air, her chest heaving. She let out high-pitched moan as Bull brought his lips down to her folds, his tongue lapping up her slick. Abelas moved down to her neck, marking and bruising her skin, mirroring what Bull had done. Amaya’s mind was a blur as all of the sensations pulsed through her; this was wrong, somehow, but she couldn’t figure out why. Bull was now pulling her engorged bud into his mouth, running his lips over it before sucking hard, then flattening his tongue over it in slow, tortuous strokes. Amaya keened, Abelas now suckling her breasts, gentler than Bull had been. Abelas caressed and worshipped them with his mouth and tongue as Bull did the same to her clit.

She found herself unable to process any coherent thoughts as both her lovers’ affections grew more intense. She was climbing higher, her body pulling tight like her bowstring, and suddenly she snapped, releasing the built up pressure--the arrow of her pleasure. Bull lapped up her release, groaning with satisfaction as she continued to pour forth.

“Damn, Kadan, I could do that all day long.” Bull said as he sat up, licking his lips. He reached down, pulling off his huge loose pants. He was not wearing any smalls. 

Abelas moved behind her, lifting her up so that she sat in his lap. His arousal pressed against her, hard and long between her arse cheeks. He kissed and sucked the back of her neck before biting into it, leaving deep teeth marks on the otherwise unmarred skin.

“Mmm, yes, let us keep your friend here with us, shall we?” Abelas whispered before taking the tip of her ear into his mouth.

Bull grinned as he lifted Amaya’s legs up, aligning himself with her entrance, his knees brushing against Abelas’. “Well I can’t pass up an offer like that!” Bull replied. “I could fuck my little Kadan and her sexy sentinel all day, every day!” He placed the head of his cock against Amaya’s slit, entering her slowly. He let out a deep groan, almost a growl, as he hilted himself in her.

Amaya moaned wantonly.

Abelas had gathered some of her slick and was preparing her other hole with his fingers. She whined, alternating between leaning back against him and pushing her hips back against Bull. She let out a gasp when Abelas removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock.

“I agree completely.” Abelas said as he began to press into Amaya. “We should stay here forever.”

Bull pulled out slowly as Abelas pushed in, leaving Amaya torn between feeling empty and too full all at once. Once Abelas had fully entered her, Bull slammed back in, the dual sensation against her sensitive spot causing her to scream. They started up a rhythm, Amaya being pressed helplessly between them as her nerve endings sung with overstimulation. After a few minutes her body adjusted to the new feeling, her mind clearing enough to think about what was wrong with this. She pushed her bound hands against Bull, trying in vain to stop him.

“No, we can’t stay here forever! I need to finish my training and defeat Corypheus!” She cried out, even as they continued to enter her.

Amaya shuddered as another orgasm washed over her, taking her by surprise.

“Please!” She cried, turning her head to look at Abelas. “You must know that we can’t keep doing this!”

Both men laughed, neither ceasing their thrusts.

“STOP!” Amaya screamed. Tears started to fall from her eyes. “KATOH! I don’t want this!”

“Of course you want this, Kadan. All you want is to be our little fuck toy, taking our seed in all of your holes day in and day out.” Bull taunted her.

Tears streamed down Amaya’s face as she shook her head vehemently. She pressed her hands against Bull’s chest again, this time sending a lightning spell through him. His movements stuttered, finally ceasing as he fell over onto the bed, unconscious. Amaya didn’t have her barrier up, and the spell traveled through where she was joined with Bull. She was paralyzed, but the electricity wasn’t as strong as it flowed through her and into Abelas. In his weakened state, the spell knocked him out, his body shuddering against the mattress. Amaya closed her eyes once the lightning had passed through her, letting herself fall onto the bed.

\-----

It could have been seconds or hours before Amaya opened her eyes again. She was still crying, hot tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. She was lying on the bed in Abelas’ arms as he stroked her hair.

“Shhhhh… shhhhh… It’s okay, it wasn’t real. I’m here.” He said softly.

She sat up, staring at him, her eyes wide and breaths coming too fast.

“Amaya?” He asked, concerned.

She immediately moved away from him, looking around for Bull. “Get away from me!” She screamed.

“Amaya, you’re safe. It was a test--it was not real. You cast the spell on yourself so that you could take the next test in your training, remember?” Abelas said slowly, his voice soft.

“It was just a test?” She asked, still sobbing.

“Yes, da’len, and I am deeply sorry.” Abelas’ eyes were liquid as he stared into Amaya’s. “I would never have let you do this if I knew what would happen.”

He reached over to pull Amaya back to him. "May I?" He asked, hesitant.

She nodded, moving back over to him and resting her head against his chest.

He wiped the tears from her face before wrapping his arms around her, one hand stroking her hair as the other wrapped around her back. "Is this acceptable?" He asked.

She mumbled a yes.

“I would never hurt you or do anything to you against your will. Do you know that, Amaya?” He said softly into her ear.

She nodded against his chest. Her chest continued to heave with sobs for a few minutes, still quite shaken by what she had experienced. It may not have been real, but it _felt_ real. Her emotions had been real. She had experienced two people she cared about turning on her, abusing her and using her body. Those feelings would stay with her forever.

“I would perish before I would let anyone hurt you.” He whispered, the break in his voice almost undetectable. “Please forgive me, Amaya. I wish I had never given you this test.”

She nodded again and he kissed her forehead.

She looked up at him, her sobs quieted and tears dried. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She said. “Just hold me, please?”

He nodded, pulling her more tightly into his embrace.

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was really hard to write. I can't see Iron Bull or Abelas being sexual predators so it was really hard to write them like that...even though it didn't really get super predatory until the end.
> 
> Also, I really hope you figured out or at least guessed that this was another Fade test/dream. I didn't want to obviously state it but I thought I dropped some hints there...plus just the whole scenario seemed a little farfetched, right? Maybe it's just me?
> 
> Aaaand I had to end on a happy quote from one of my favorite movies to make it better.


	15. Ashavise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsttttttttttt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying a thing where if you hover over a word it will give you the Elvhen translation! They're also at the bottom as usual.

They passed the next two weeks in relative silence, the need for words greatly diminished in light of their recent experience. Amaya spent most of her time lying on her couch, sleeping, reading books, or just deep in her own thoughts. She was distant, overwhelmed. Occasionally she’d go to the library for more books, or to the kitchen for food, or go out in the courtyard to sit on the grass or climb a tree. Abelas let her set the pace; if she wanted to talk, he would talk. If she wanted to lay on the bed with him, he would oblige, following her lead regarding physical contact. If she had a nightmare, which she often did, Amaya found comfort sleeping in Abelas’ arms, and he would stay up hours after she fell asleep to watch the slow rise and fall of her chest. He never asked her about the dreams, but he noticed that when she cried out in her sleep, it was Iron Bull she was begging to stop--never him. Her mind was full of doubts, about herself, about Abelas, about what in the Void she was doing. Though she wanted to just forget it, the memory of the Fade test weighed heavily on her mind. Her breath would hitch every time Abelas’ hand brushed against her hip or her ribs, every time she woke up to him nuzzling her neck, afraid that the assault would begin anew. Though she tried to rationalize it, to tell herself there was no danger--this was Abelas, he wouldn’t hurt her--she couldn’t help the way her heart jumped into her throat when the barest of touches was suddenly too much.

Afternoon sunlight poured through the stained glass windows in their room, warming Amaya’s face and instilling her with peace. The words she had wanted to say rested gently on her tongue, kept safe by the confines of her lips. She leaned back against the pillows, sighing absentmindedly.

“What is it? Are you alright?” Abelas asked, turning to face her but keeping his distance.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She said, eyes downcast.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You saw everything through my eyes during the test, right? You experienced everything I did?” Her voice was small, cheeks stained red with shame.

“Amaya…” Abelas whispered. “You have nothing to apologize for. It was my fault…. You had to endure that because of me.”

“But you saw _everything!_ You felt how my body reacted! You had to watch me… _experience me_ … being with Bull. And with you… you had to watch yourself hurt me! The test was in _my mind_ , so it’s my fault!” She cried.

“What I experienced was nothing compared to the torture you suffered through.” He said.

She looked over at him, tears ready to spill over her eyelashes. “You must hate me… for imagining you… like that.” Her voice broke.

“Amaya… da’len… I could never hate you.” Abelas wiped away a single tear from her cheek. “You were not in control of that vision. The Fade created those experiences. You had no choice in the matter.”

“I’m still sorry… for everything. I wish you hadn’t seen that...seen _me_ like that.” Amaya said.

“I do not think differently of you because of that test, da’len.” He replied.

“I just… I would never… I’m not…” She tried to explain, her skin burning with humiliation at memories of her wantonness in the Fade.

“I know.” Abelas said, giving her a consolatory smile.

After a moment he sighed, his face somber once again. “There is something I must tell you about the test.” He set his book down, resting it on the bed between them.

“It was a Desire Demon.” He said quietly. “The tests have all been Demons. The first was Rage--it chose to show you the shemlen who attacked you and give you the chance for revenge. The second was Sloth--showing you a way to escape with your mother, to go back to your Clan and forget about this place and the Inquisition, to have an easy life again.” He paused.

Amaya stared at him, face twisted with disgust. “And this third one was what, my desire to be a slut for two men at once?” She cringed at her own words.

Abelas reached over to take her hand in his but stopped, letting his hand rest next to hers on the bed. “No.” He said sternly. “The Desire Demon could not read your heart clearly. It created a scenario that it thought would tempt you, using a combination of the desires it found in you.”

“There is no way that being fucked against my will by two men I care about would ever be anything that I would want!” Amaya snapped.

“I know, Amaya.” Abelas said softly. He cautiously moved one of his fingers to touch hers. “You did well in resisting--the dream should have ended the first time you said no.

Instead, when you resisted, when your mind told you that what was happening was wrong, the Demon twisted the dream, trying to force you to abandon your duty and give yourself over to hedonism.”

“I just...I feel so wrong. I was enjoying it. I _liked_ it. I should have said no right away, but it just felt too good. I didn’t fight it at first.” She said quietly, gaze turned down towards the bed.

Abelas moved two more of his fingers over to hers. “But you did fight. You kept fighting. You fought when most people would have given up. You are stronger than I ever could have imagined.”

He finally picked up her hand in his, gently caressing her fingers with this thumb. They laid there are a while, saying nothing, thoughts wandering and hearts wondering.

“So, how are you feeling?” Amaya asked out of nowhere.

Abelas rolled up his breeches to examine his leg. His skin was mottled with bruises of varying sizes and colors, a large scab running down the center of his thigh. The laceration had healed, but the broken bone was not yet completely mended. Amaya had been casting healing magic and applying poultices to his wounds as many times a day as he would let her, usually three--once around every meal.

“I can put more weight on the leg.” He said. “I do not need to rely on the crutch as heavily.”

Amaya had found an old, broken staff in one of the closets and fitted it with a padded armrest and a grip, turning it into a makeshift crutch for Abelas.

She was not appeased. “What about your arm? It’s been more than two weeks since I cast the spell.”

Abelas turned, holding his arm out in front of her so she could see it. The wound itself had healed leaving behind an ugly scar. However, the darkness in his veins remained. “It does not hurt, but the arm itself is still weak.” He explained.

“I think it looks lighter, don’t you?” Amaya asked, ever hopeful. She stared at him expectantly.

“You may be correct.” Abelas agreed, though his arm did not look at all improved.

She beamed.

“It is still too early to tell, Amaya.” He reminded her.

“I do not care, Abelas.” She replied, mimicking his voice and tone. She laughed, grabbing her stomach and scooting over towards him. He couldn’t help but beam back at her, seeing her so happy after all that she had been through. He moved closer to her, his face hovering over hers, their noses only inches away from each other.

Her mouth dropped open, eyes opening wide. “Oh my Creators,” she exclaimed, feigning shock, “What happened to your face? Are you broken? I’ve never seen your face do that before! You’re actually giving me a real smile!” She laughed again, little giggles of mirth. 

Abelas laughed then too, her warmth and energy infusing him with light. She reached up to his face and traced the lines of his mouth with her fingers. He kissed them lightly, stopping almost immediately to check her reaction. The look she gave him was soft, a beam of golden sunlight making her hair glow like a flame. He ran his fingers slowly along a strand of it.

“Ashavise…” He whispered.

“Ashavise?” Amaya raised her eyebrows.

“Ir abelas.” He replied quickly, eyes wide. “I...did not mean to say that aloud.” 

“Is that how you think of me?” She asked.

“It is a name that I have thought about to describe you, yes.” Abelas replied, slightly flustered. “You are a force to be reckoned with, a flame that won’t burn out. I am in awe of you, Ashavise.”

“I like it.” Amaya said, her cheeks dimpling. “Keep calling me that.”

“As you wish, Ashavise.” Abelas grinned at her.

Laughter bubbled up from deep in her chest and radiated outward in waves of warmth. Pale green irises filled with light as she gazed at Abelas, moving her hand behind his neck to pull him closer to her. His pupils dilated, gold swallowed by black, breath coming faster as he hovered over her.

“Dhava em.” Amaya whispered.

“Din, Ashavise.” Abelas replied.

“Ahnsul?” She asked, eyes clouding with hurt.

“Ashavise... Amaya. You have not recovered from your encounter with the Desire Demon.” Abelas sighed. “How do you know that you are ready?”

“Ame. Sathan, Abelas.” She replied breathily. “Ma dhavem em i’ve.”

“This is different.” He said quietly, his breathing still uneven though he tried to retain his composure. “I caused you pain. Though it was not truly me, you experienced a facsimile of myself _violating_ you. I cannot risk triggering harmful memories for you, especially so soon.”

Abelas pulled back from her. She pulled him forward with the hand she had behind his neck, but he was stronger.

“You are probably having a reaction from the trauma. You are seeking comfort, or a distraction, or both. It would be immoral for me to take advantage of you in such a state.” He said. “Besides, it seems you already have someone waiting for you at Tarasyl'an Te'las.”

He placed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

Amaya let out a deep sigh. “What? You mean… Iron Bull?”

He nodded.

“You think we’re involved… because of the Desire Demon.” She said, averting her eyes.

“It is not my place to pry.” He said.

“Well I want to explain.” She replied.

He nodded.

Amaya took a deep breath. “My relationship with Bull was… intimate _._ ” She said.

Abelas remained impassive, waiting for her to continue.

“I mean, we weren’t in love or anything, it wasn’t like that.” She explained. “Our connection was purely… physical.”

Abelas swallowed.

Amaya sighed. “I _care_ about him, of course. He’s one of my closest friends. I just don’t have… _romantic_ feelings towards him.”

“I see.” He said.

“Ugh, I’m not making this any better.” She groaned. “We were only ‘together’ for a few months before I came here.”

“So when you go back to the Inquisition you will continue your… relationship?” Abelas asked, no emotion in his voice.

“I don’t know!” Amaya threw up her hands. “Things are… different now.”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to be imprudent.” He said.

“He and I both had certain _needs_ , and we fulfilled those needs for each other.” She stated. “If either of us started a romantic relationship someone else, then our arrangement would end. No hard feelings.”

Amaya took a deep breath. “I mean, it’s not like I was going to get into a romantic relationship with anyone anytime soon.”

“Of course.” Abelas replied.

“After I got tired of playing Solas’ games I just wanted to have some fun, and Bull was there for that.” She said.

“Solas?” Abelas asked, “Your Elvhen companion?”

Amaya quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, my _Elvhen_ companion. Why did you call him that? Why is he Elvhen and I’m… something less?”

He cupped her face in his hand. “You are not something ‘less.’ My assumption of your people when we first met was--incorrect--to say the least. You are so much more than I could have known.”

Abelas inhaled sharply. He thought for a moment. “Your companion carries magic that I have not seen since the time of Arlathan. I could only assume that he was one like myself, trapped in an era long past his own.”

Amaya twisted her mouth, thinking. “Well, he does spend a lot of time visiting the Fade in ancient ruins and other historic places. He’s probably picked up a lot of magic and other things from watching the memories of ancient elves.”

Abelas’ eyebrows perked up. “Yes, of course. That must be it.”

He cleared his throat. “So, you were in a relationship with this Solas?”

She groaned. “Not really. We kissed in the Fade and flirted a lot but he distanced himself from me. When he tried to come back I ended it--I didn’t want to be emotionally involved with someone who doesn’t know if they really want me or not.”

Abelas gulped.

“Besides, I had already started seeing Bull at that point and to be honest, I enjoyed my relationship with him much more. I didn’t need to wonder how he felt because we didn’t feel anything for each other. We were just having fun.”

“That name he called you… in the dream. ‘Kadan.’ Do you know what it means?” Abelas asked cautiously.

“Yeah. It means ‘dear friend’ or something like that.” She replied.

“Yes and no. That is the literal definition, but it actually means something more. A term only used when you truly love someone.” He explained.

“How do you know? You’ve spent the past several hundred years sleeping and fighting.” Amaya asked.

“Once the intruders to the Temple had been defeated, we sentinels had a few weeks before our bodies would return to sleep. I spent much time reading. We had access to the library just as you do here.” He said. “Your ‘friend’ likely cares for you more than you think.”

“Well I think you’re wrong.” She said flatly. “I’m not romantically involved with Iron Bull or anyone, okay? So you don’t have to feel guilty or… whatever.”

“It’s not like you want to kiss me or anything anyways.” She added under her breath.

“Amaya.” Abelas said, his voice a warning.

“Why _did_ you kiss me before?” She asked.

“Because I could not help myself.” He sighed. “I cannot remember the last time I dared to want something. I was selfish. I let myself have it.”

Amaya lifted her head up from the pillows, bringing herself close to Abelas’ face. “So be selfish again.” She whispered. The sun had begun its descent behind the temple walls, casting lines of shadow across her face. One band of light illuminated her eyes, making them glow like green fireflies. Her slightly parted lips hovered just below Abelas’, her warm breath fanning over his mouth. He took in a rough breath.

“Whatever I may want, whatever _you_ may want, now is not the time.” He said softly. “Please, Ashavise. Be patient.”

“It’s just a kiss!” Amaya argued.

“You are the most infuriating, vexing person I have ever encountered!” Abelas growled. “What happens if it is not ‘just a kiss?’ What if I want all of you? You may think you want that as well. If you say yes, if you give me permission, I may not be able to stop myself from taking you, and I cannot do that. Not now. Not after this. I cannot make you go through that, no matter what you think you want. Hate me if you wish. I will not put you in a position to relive that nightmare!”

“Fine.” Amaya huffed. She picked up a book and went over to the washroom, closing the door and running herself a bath.

She added some oils, heating the water before climbing in. She rested her head against the leather pillow attached to the back of the tub and closed her eyes, inhaling the scents of the oils.

 _Who is he to decide what I’m ready or not ready for?_ She pushed out her bottom lip and exhaled in a huff, blowing her hair up away from her face for a second. She sank further down into the water until it was just below her nose, the fragrant steam filling her lungs with every breath. She stayed there for several minutes, the warmth of the bath and the pureness of the steam clearing her thoughts.

Amaya opened her eyes, wiping her hands on a towel before picking up her book. It was the one about Elvhen customs, and she opened to her bookmark on courting. She read:  
_Even more important than giving gifts, the next step in bonding is to give your chosen mate a bond name. This would be a name that no one else would call you, and is a symbol of great trust. Once a bond name is chosen, it can never be changed, so it must be chosen wisely--though other nicknames can of course be used, the bond name is sacred. It is with the bond names that the Elvhen wed--not their real names._

The following section of the text was on consent. Consent was incredibly important in all Elvhen relationships, not just for bondmates, though consent between bondmates was absolutely crucial. If a potential bondmate did not return your gestures, it was considered a rejection of the bonding process and therefore a lack of consent. Amaya wondered briefly if Abelas had indeed been trying to court her, and if she had inadvertently rejected him by not returning his gestures. Had he been trying to bond with her this whole time? Was she giving him mixed signals by asking him to kiss her? Was this even what she wanted? A relationship with Abelas? Or was he right, was she just seeking comfort and a distraction? Images of him bloodied and broken on the floor flashed through her mind, the fear and anguish she’d felt wondering if he was going to die. She cared for him, she was attracted to him, but was that all?

Amaya shook her head, as if to chase away those nagging thoughts. Abelas probably wasn’t even courting her, she was just imagining things. She rose from the bath, evaporating the bathwater with a wiggle of her fingers before drying off. As she dressed her thoughts returned to the bow and quiver Abelas had given her, all of the things he had shown her and taught her so far, the way he had taken care of her.

_I should give him a gift._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, translations from Project Elvhen.
> 
> Ashavise: flame woman. From the words: asha (woman) + avis (flame)  
> Dhava em: kiss me  
> Din: no  
> Ahnsul: why, because, what for  
> Ame: I am  
> Sathan: please  
> Ma dhavem em i've: You kissed me before  
> Tarasyl'an Te'las: Skyhold
> 
> As always thank you so much for the kudos and comments--they really mean a lot to me. 
> 
> I'll be in Disneyland for 5 days next week and then will be pretty busy at work, so I may not have an update for a few weeks. We'll see if I can get another chapter up before I leave :)


	16. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly halla!
> 
> This isn't what this was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. A lot of stuff has been happening in my personal and work life so I haven't been really focused on writing. I was at Disneyland for a week, then when we came back my bfs youngest cousin passed away, and I've been really busy with work in between, so yeah... 
> 
> This was kind of a filler chapter, some stuff that needed to happen to get to the more interesting stuff later.

“I’m going to see the halla,” Amaya announced after their morning meal. They hadn’t spoken much since the previous evening, other than Amaya apologizing and their usual daily pleasantries. She’d slept on the couch all night despite having a particularly bad nightmare. She had dark circles around her eyes, but Abelas didn’t mention them. 

“As you wish,” Abelas replied. “While you are there, you might milk the halla and gather some food from the garden. It has been a while since I have been able to do it.”

Amaya nodded. She gathered her map, a knapsack, and a bucket, then set out towards the maze. Abelas had marked where the garden was, separate and closer to the entrance than the halla, so she stopped there first. She picked some tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, potatoes, turnips, leeks, and some fruit—mostly berries. She stuffed them all into her knapsack and continued through the maze. She choked on a heavy breath when she finally reached the field, her bag falling to the ground. From the top of the tree the halla had seemed so far, small, unreal. She had almost been expecting not to find them at all. Now that they were here, in front of her, her heart ached with bittersweet joy. 

The halla closest to her reminded her of Ishta—similar shape and length of her horns, the same color eyes and pure white fur without a hint of gray—she was just missing the small black tuft of fur that Ishta had between her eyes. A small sob escaped her and the halla walked closer, sniffing Amaya thoroughly before touching its nose to hers. Amaya reached up to pet the animal, grateful for the comfort. The other halla looked over to see what the fuss was about, and they all gathered in a small half circle in front of Amaya. They sighed at her, welcoming her to their group. The gentle calm they exuded reminded her of home, and she sniffled as she continued to pet the one in front of her. “What’s your name?” she asked it, knowing full well it would not respond. “Hmmm. I’ll call you Adhlea.” The halla made a gentle “Meh” noise in response. Amaya laughed. 

She proceeded to greet and name each other halla, and each gave their assent in the form of small, soft noises. The one with the gray-tinged fur, Doshiel, was the mother of the two fawns, the one that Amaya would milk. She guided the halla to the tiny barn at the edge of the enclosure where a small milking stand set up. The halla had been well-trained and hopped right up onto the platform. Amaya sat down at the stool, setting her bucket down underneath the animal’s teats. She began the process of milking the mother halla, bowing to her and paying her reverence before massaging her and gently extracting her milk. The process was ingrained into Amaya’s being—the motions were automatic, familiar. She hadn’t done this in so long, the whole thing felt like a feverdream. The idyllic pasture, the regal and kind halla, performing the day’s milking as if she were still with her Clan and nothing had changed.

When she was finished she thanked the halla, giving her a gentle pat on the nose before she hopped away, back to her fawns. Amaya carried the bucket over to where her pack was sitting, almost slipping on a patch of wet ground. She bent down, running her hand through the fine soil beneath her—it was clay. She smiled. _A fortunate coincidence._ She found some broad leaves and wrapped a chunk of the clay in them before sticking it in her bag. Eager to return with her bounty, Amaya bid farewell to the halla, promising to return soon. They grunted as she made her way back into the maze, sad to see her go. 

Once she had placed the milk and produce in the larder, Amaya sat down at the long table in the kitchen and unwrapped her clay. She added some more water and began molding the clay into her desired shape. She grabbed some utensils to help chisel in the finer details, adding texture and dimension to the object. After hours of sculpting and refining, the piece was ready to be fired. Amaya added more wood to the heated oven before putting the sculpture inside. She had just latched the metal door when a rhythmic tapping sound echoed through the kitchen. 

“Amaya?” Abelas asked, limping towards her on his crutch. “I thought you were still with the halla. When did you return?”

Amaya half-jumped, shocked by Abelas’ sudden intrusion, then ran over to help him walk. “I just got back a little while ago,” she said.

“Are you baking something?” Abelas asked, eyeing the oven.

She shook her head. “Oh, no, I was going to, but the oven is dirty so I’m heating it up to clean it.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. “I was uncertain when you would return, and I was growing hungry.” 

Amaya glanced outside to see the sun still high but dipping towards the west. _Mid-afternoon._ “I’m so sorry Abelas!” she cried. “I didn’t realize it was so late. What can I get you?”

Abelas hobbled over to the larder, Amaya struggling to keep up as she supported him. “I can manage on my own,” he said. When they reached the larder Abelas released himself from Amaya and grabbed some bread and a small chunk of salted ram meat.

“Would you like a sandwich?” Amaya asked. She reached in front of Abelas to grab some vegetables.

“If that is what you will be eating, I suppose I shall have one as well.” He stared at her for a second. “Why are your hands soiled?” he asked.

Amaya set down the vegetables on the wooden counter and looked at her hands. She had wrapped up the clay and hidden it in a dark, moist cupboard, wiping down her workspace when she was finished, but she’d neglected to wash her hands. Large blotches of clay remained on her skin and under her fingernails. She hurried over to the basin of water in the corner of the room. 

“I...fell on my way back from visiting the halla,” she said as she rinsed her hands clean. “I landed in some mud and I forgot to wash it off.”

Abelas narrowed his eyes at her, his lips pressed into a flat line. When she didn’t recant, he sighed and set the bread and meat on the counter next to the vegetables. He sat down on one of the stools.

“It was lonely without you today, Ashavise,” he said as he watched her prepare the sandwiches. 

“Is that so?” she asked, trying to conceal her smile. “I’ve been gone before, though.”

“Yes, but never for such a long time,” he replied. “Your absence was...palpable.” 

Amaya felt the warmth flood her cheeks. She continued to slice the ingredients, building the sandwiches as she went. “So you missed me then?”

Abelas blanched for a moment, then his face lit up with the tiniest of smiles. “I suppose I did,” he answered.

She reached over to grab a handful of tomato slices she’d just cut. She arranged them on top of one of the sandwiches, then reached over for another handful. 

He made a noise in his throat. “No to-” He started, then stopped himself. She’d placed the remaining tomato on the same sandwich, leaving the other one tomato-less.

“No tomatoes on yours,” Amaya finished, giving him a self-satisfied smirk. “I remembered.”

Abelas sat in silence as she completed the sandwiches. “Thank you,” he said softly when she placed his in front of him. 

They ate quickly, both of them ravenous after not having anything since breakfast. When they finished, the sun had dipped below the roof line of the temple.

“Thank you for the meal,” Abelas said as Amaya cleared away their plates.

She laughed. “It wasn’t really a meal,” she said, “But you’re welcome.” She finished cleaning their plates and moved to help him up from the stool.

“It is a wonder that you have been so kind to me these past few weeks,” he mused as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, supporting himself with the crutch on his other side.

“What do you mean?” Amaya asked as they walked back towards their room.

Abelas gave a dry chuckle. “You saved my life, have been nursing me back to health, spending most of your time taking care of me. Even if you no longer consider me your captor, I did not think you would care so greatly about my wellbeing.” He took a breath. “Especially after… the ugliness that you experienced from me.”

Amaya stopped just outside of their room, tilting her head to stare at Abelas with a piercing glare, jaw pushed out to the side. “So what, I’m not allowed to care about you? I’m supposed to let you die after _you_ saved _me_?” she snapped, indignant. “Not to mention that without you, I’m stuck here. I won’t be able to pass the test.”

He bit his lip, looking down at the floor before speaking. “I apologize. That is why I showed you the library, in case something were to happen to me. I thought you would figure out how to unlock the Eluvians using the texts there.” He laughed softly. “I half expected you to be gone when I returned.”

She huffed, leading him into the room. Rather than going towards the bed, Abelas sat down on the couch, motioning for Amaya to sit next to him. 

“I refused to leave this place _with my own mother!_ ” she emphasized. “Why do you think I would leave now? Do you doubt me that much?” Her eyes filled with hurt. “I don’t want to leave, especially not when you’re still in this condition.” She glanced at his arm, the dark veins partially covered by the sleeve of his tunic.

“Ashavise…” Abelas whispered. “I am sorry. I have not had anyone show me such kindness for a very long time. I do not know how to react.” He stared at the stained glass windows, watching the sunlight fade from them as night fell. 

Amaya reached over, cupping his cheek in her hand and turning his face to look at her. Her eyes were deep wells of jade as she looked up at him. “You can start by saying ‘thank you,’” she said.

Abelas placed his hands gently on either side of Amaya’s face, leaning down so their foreheads touched. He breathed deeply. “Thank you, Ashavise,” he whispered, the words like a warm breeze against her lips. 

Amaya took in a ragged breath before moving her head forward, lining her lips up with Abelas’. He quickly pulled away, instead wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, her head pressed against the firm muscles of his chest. 

“Amaya, please,” he said, his voice soft and tired, almost far away. He began to stroke her hair, now long enough to cascade down her back, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Not yet, Ashavise.”

She sighed but leaned into his hold, pressing her hands against his shoulders and pushing him down onto the couch. They both lifted their legs to lie down across the sofa—it was just long enough that Abelas’ toes barely hung off the edge. His head landed on the pillows at one end and Amaya laid on top of him, her ear resting over his heart. She reached up to grab the blanket she’d used when sleeping there and struggled awkwardly to cover them both. Abelas laughed for a moment before reaching for a corner of the blanket and helping Amaya drape it over their bodies. They righted themselves, now covered, and laid in silence, feeling and listening to each other breathe.

\-----

Amaya awoke in the middle of the night, automatically shaking her head and reaching up to wipe the sweat from her brow. She took pause when her hand came away dry; she had gotten into a routine from having so many nightmares, and it came as a surprise to awaken peacefully for once. She felt Abelas breathing deeply beneath her, heard his heart beat steadily against her ear. It was the middle of the night, but something lingered in her mind. She rose as quickly as she could without disturbing Abelas, which was no easy feat. She slipped out into the hallway and summoned a small magelight to see her way. 

When she reached the kitchen, she flicked her wrist and all of the torches in the room sparked with flame. She grabbed as much wood as she could carry from the large stand in the corner and brought it over to the oven. She opened the hatch for the wood, keeping the main door closed to maintain the level of heat for her sculpture. She loaded the fresh wood on top of the embers, using a poker to make sure they were spread out evenly and to stimulate the hot coals underneath. Then she cast a small lightning spell across the layer of wood—much hotter and more efficient than a flame spell—and closed the hatch. Another flick of her wrist and the torches went out.

When she returned, Abelas had rolled onto his side, so she climbed in next to him, her back pressed against his front. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She turned her head for a moment, twisting to face him. His breathing was slow and heavy, and in the dim torchlight coming from the courtyard his eyes moved quickly under his eyelids. Ever so gently, Amaya leaned in, pressing her lips feather-soft against his. When he didn’t react, she increased the pressure, letting her lips melt as they touched his. His eyes remained closed, breathing still heavy. Suddenly, he spoke against her mouth.

“Ashavise, stop,” he warned, as forceful as he could be in his half-asleep state. “You will be the death of me,” he mumbled groggily. 

She couldn’t help but smile, turning back around and falling asleep in his warmth.

\-----

If he remembered the incident from the night before, Abelas said nothing. Amaya stayed with him all day, only leaving to make their meals and add wood to the oven. They spent the day reading and playing Elvhen chess (“pan’vanathe” as Abelas called it). After their evening meal, Amaya gathered up their dishes and brought them to the kitchen, deciding to finally check on her sculpture. She opened the oven slowly, letting the heat escape bit by bit. When it was open wide enough, she cast a fan of flame into the oven as she opened it the rest of the way, both to ensure that the sculpture didn’t get too cold too fast, and to help seal the clay. Slowly, she moved the flames farther and farther away from the sculpture until their heat barely reached the clay, then she released the spell. She levitated the sculpture out of the oven, setting it down gently on a wire rack in the corner of the kitchen. She inspected it for damage, turning it around in front of her, and smiled as she admired her work. 

She was considering whether or not to paint the piece—it was already roughly the color she’d wanted anyway, and she didn’t want to take the time to mix the paints, paint it, dry it, and fire it all over again. For those reasons too she decided not to glaze it; it was more realistic with its current rough matte look. She carried the wire rack to the dried goods section of the larder with its moisture-sapping enchantments. As she walked out from the kitchen, Amaya almost barreled into Abelas. She let out a shocked squeal.

Abelas chuckled. “I came to see if you were all right. You were taking longer than usual.”

“Oh. I was just...checking the larder. If we continue eating the salted meat sparingly, it should last a few more weeks,” she said quickly.

“Let’s get you back to the room,” she added. “I need to go to the library.” 

“I will join you,” he said. “It has been too long since I have perused those shelves, and I need to exercise my legs.”

Amaya balked at his suggestion. “Oh. Are you sure you can make it? There are quite a few stairs…”

“I will stay on the lower level. I should be able to find what I need,” Abelas replied. “I am weary of sitting in bed.”

Amaya sighed. She would have been going stir-crazy much sooner than he was; it was only fair that he have a reprieve, even if it did complicate her plans. She and Abelas made their way to the library—slowly. At first Abelas refused her help, using only his crutch. When they finally reached the Eluvian room, he allowed her to help him balance as they stepped through the mirror into the library. Abelas moved to one of the bookshelves near the entrance, thumbing through the texts there. Amaya tried to be as casual as possible, picking up two books from a nearby table and clutching them to her chest. 

“I’ll be...upstairs,” she said, watching as Abelas became absorbed in the book he was holding. 

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled, not looking up from the text. 

Amaya almost ran through the Eluvian to the upper level, setting her books down on a table out of view from Abelas. She looked down to make sure he was still nose-deep in his book, then opened her own text in front of her. It was the text on Elvhen culture, though she had only been reading the courting chapter. She’d hidden it, along with the sex positions book, in a random corner of the library so that Abelas wouldn’t know she’d been reading them. Normally she wouldn’t care about such things, but Abelas made her feel flustered in ways she wasn’t used to. 

She picked up where she’d left off, reading more detail about giving bonding gifts. It was customary to leave the gift for the person rather than giving it to them face to face, so that they wouldn’t feel pressured to respond right away. Amaya considered this. _That’s what Abelas did with the bow and quiver._ A response could take weeks or even years, during which time the couple would continue as if nothing had happened. _Great. What if he thinks this sculpture is a reply to his bonding gift?_ She groaned. _I’m not even sure he IS trying to bond with me._

She considered giving him the gift in person, so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. However, the thought of watching him pretend to like it, or worse, _openly_ dislike it, made her stomach sink. It was, after all, something she’d thought up on a whim—there was no way to tell if he would actually like the sculpture. After a bit of thinking and playing out worst-case scenarios— _he thinks it’s a bonding gift but he hates it so he has to pretend to like it_ —Amaya decided to leave a thank-you note with the gift. This way she wouldn’t need to give it to him in person and he wouldn’t think it was a bonding gift. Hopefully.

Satisfied with her decision, she continued to read. It wasn’t uncommon for Elvhen couples to remain promised to each other for decades or centuries before going through with the formal bonding ceremony. Being immortal, they did not need to rush things. Amaya let out a deep sigh. The thought of taking such a long time to do anything made her skin crawl. Just because you had an infinite amount of time didn’t mean you had to do everything so slowwwwwwwly. The ancient elves could have gotten so much more done if they’d worked faster. On the other hand, one would probably be very relaxed about their life if they knew no end was coming for them. An end did come for the Elvhen, however. Their lives became short and pointed, each breath closer to their last. 

The thought caused a deep ache to well up in her chest. Abelas could be running out of time as well. Neither of them knew how long he would have if the spell Amaya cast didn’t work. She closed the book, leaning forward to rest her chin on it. It wouldn’t help to dwell on it. She stood, carrying her books with her as she walked back down the first level. Abelas was sitting at one of the desks there, a huge stack of books in front of him. 

“Done so soon?” he asked Amaya. 

She nodded. “I need to go check on something. Are you going to be okay here?”

He looked at her quizzically. “I will be fine. If I do not return in an hour, you may come to retrieve me,” he responded. He kept eyeing her, but said nothing more.

“Okay, see you later!” Amaya called as she ran through the Eluvian. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one Elvhen word this time, and I made it up with help from Project Elvhen translations.
> 
> Pan’vanathe: Battle game (chess)  
> = Pan: n. Fight, battle + Vanathe: n. Game [Vanathe = Vana: adj. silly, comical, playful + 'athe' (makes an adjective into a noun)]
> 
> Also I know literally nothing about clay and kiln firing I looked up a little about it but I know this is 100% not accurate, sorry.
> 
> As always, thanks for sticking with me and being patient! Also thank you for all of your lovely comments, kudos, and positive vibes ♥


	17. Dahl'amythal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas' POV!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff going on here...lots of Elvhen words...hover over for the definitions!
> 
> There are a couple of trigger warnings but nothing different from previous chapters... I don't want to give anything away so I'm not posting them here. Just know that some triggers that happened in previous chapters will show up here!

Abelas woke the next morning alone. Amaya had fallen asleep by the time he’d returned from the library. He’d inhaled her warm scent, pulling her close into his embrace after crawling under the covers with her in their bed. _Their bed._ Since when had it become _their_ bed? Now it was difficult to fall asleep without her—those nights that she slept on the settee rather than in his arms. She usually slept longer than he did, only by half an hour or so, but this morning she was gone and the bed felt infinitely colder. He sat up to stretch and noticed a note on the bedside table. 

_Abelas,_  
_I got up early to go to the gardens. There’s breakfast for you in the kitchen. I’ll be back before midday._

_Amaya_

Abelas couldn’t help the slight frown that formed on his face. He wished he could have gone with her, to show her just how beautiful the gardens could be. But they were at the edge of the temple grounds, and even with his crutch it would be difficult for him to walk there. He rose slowly from the bed, careful as he put weight on his injured leg. It was always stiff and more painful in the morning. As he reached for his crutch he saw a small potion bottle on the other side of the table, farthest from the bed but right next to his crutch. He opened the bottle and sniffed—a pain relief solution. He smiled at Amaya’s thoughtfulness and downed the liquid. 

He found his breakfast on the long table in the kitchen, a bubble of heat encasing it to keep it warm. Amaya had made his favorite breakfast—round buns with cinnamon and sugar baked in, topped with sweetened halla cheese. He ate slowly, savoring each bite. When he was finished, he took his plate over to the basin of water to wash it off. Next to the basin was another note.

_Abelas,_  
_I hope you enjoyed your breakfast! There’s a surprise for you in the larder. Take ten steps forward, then five steps to the right. Your surprise is on the second shelf._

_Amaya_

Abelas chuckled. He entered the larder and followed her instructions, wondering what type of gift she was giving him. He looked up at the shelf in front of him, the second from the top, and tried to figure out which item was his gift. _Six potatoes, a box full of spoons, a giant bowl of rice, and several sealed glass jars with unidentifiable contents._ His brow wrinkled. He looked to the left and right on the same shelf, but saw nothing of interest. He read Amaya’s note again, turning around to retrace his steps, when he realized his mistake. The note said “on the second shelf;” it didn’t say _which_ second shelf. He quickly turned his gaze to the second shelf from the bottom and his breath caught in his throat. 

Sitting amongst various jars and bottles was a sculpture of a dahl’amythal, the tree of Mythal. The rarest and most magical of all trees from the time of Arlathan, the last dahl’amythal died at the hands of shemlen hundreds of years prior. He bent down to pick it up, holding it gingerly as he brought it out to the kitchen. He set it down on the high table, opening up the note that was attached to it.

_Abelas,_  
_Neither this gift nor these words can begin to express my true feelings. I am so grateful for everything you have done for me. You saved my life, you took care of me when I wasn’t your responsibility, you gave me compassion and true kindness when I didn’t deserve it. You showed endless patience as you trained me and you put up with me when everyone else would have given up. Despite everything, you’ve always had faith in me and pushed me to be better. You went from being my captor to my teacher, and now… something more. You have become one of the most important people in my life. I care for you deeply, and I wanted to show you that by giving you this gift. I hope you will cherish it._

_Love,_  
_Amaya_

Abelas blinked a few times before reading the note again, and then again. His heart leapt a little higher each time. Finally, he set the note on the table and bent down to look at the sculpture. The tree looked exactly as he’d remembered—the short, wide trunk giving way to long, massive branches, spreading out and upward like a lotus blossom in full bloom. Smaller branches were interspersed between their larger siblings, claiming space where they could. Abelas was amazed at the detail of the sculpture—little knots and burls dotting the trunk, tiny delicate leaves covering the ends of the branches, even the roughness of the bark felt real beneath his fingertips. A long-forgotten warmth began to bubble up in his chest, followed by the sting of new tears forming. Amaya’s words, and this gift, could they really be what they seemed? Another feeling, frail and small from disuse, started to take root in Abelas’ heart: hope. 

Quickly, Abelas gathered his crutch and limped out towards the gardens. With luck, Amaya wouldn’t be too far and he wouldn’t have to wait long to talk to her about the gift. He went as fast as he could, almost walking full speed down the hallways, his heart in his throat as he considered what he would say. How could he ask her if the gift was what he hoped it was? He had given her his bow and quiver on a whim, not knowing if she would understand the meaning and unsure if that was even his true intention. There had been little time to think about it on his mission and after his return, but now he wondered. _Had Amaya known the traditional meaning of the gift all along? Had she been waiting to reply, or had it taken her all this time to decide? Was this simply a gift with no other intentions?_ He almost pondered what his true desires were, but his reaction to Amaya’s gift had made them all too clear. 

When he reached the courtyard, his blood turned cold at the sight in front of him. Amaya was bound to a tree, wrists pinned above her head with a ring of lightning, another wrapped around her waist. Any slight movement caused her skin to touch the lightning, sending electric shocks through her body. Still, she fought against her restraints, screaming in agony, though she made no sound. Her voice had been silenced. 

Abelas dropped his crutch and ran to her, ignoring the shooting pain in his leg. “Amaya!” he called, voice shaky with panic. “I’m here. What happened?”

He summoned all of his available mana to try and undo the lightning chains, but he only succeeded in weakening the one around her wrists. Amaya looked up at him, mouth moving urgently, trying to speak. Her wrists were already red and swollen with burns, and her arms were covered in blood. He looked closer—there were large gashes running down each arm.

“Blood magic,” a familiar voice spoke from behind him. Amaya’s eyes went wide. “I used her own blood to cast the spells to bind and silence her. Brilliant, isn’t it, Abelas?” the voice taunted.

Abelas heard his jaw crack, he was clenching it so tightly. He turned, blood boiling, his entire body about to explode with rage as he took in the person before him.

“Nathras,” Abelas hissed the name, spitting to get the foul taste of the word out of his mouth. He moved in front of Amaya. 

Nathras took a step closer. He was an elf, tall like Abelas, but otherwise completely different. He wore a black velvet robe embroidered with gold leaves, with a gold belt in the shape of a serpent curved around his waist. His face was long and gaunt, cheekbones so sharp they could cut through metal. His skin was thin and translucent like Orlesian tissue paper, stretched too tightly over his bald skull. He gave Abelas a sickening grin, his long, pointed teeth gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Abelas. It has been too long!” Nathras exclaimed, his voice like poisoned honey. He opened his arms as if inviting Abelas to embrace him. 

“Nathras, what are you doing here? What have you done to Amaya? Let her go!” Abelas growled, taking an offensive stance.

Nathras strolled casually towards Abelas. “I was walking through the Shiral’an and saw the Eluvian to this place had been opened recently. Imagine my surprise when I found your pretty little pet picking flowers in the garden.” He leered at Amaya. 

“Harellan etunash!” Abelas spat. “How dare you defile this sacred place with your presence! Amaya is no threat to you—let her go!”

Nathras laughed. “So your pet’s name is Amaya. That’s actually kind of pretty.” 

Abelas stepped back, spreading his arms to guard Amaya. “You have no business here, banal'varelan! Return to your Tavhen girelen; I am sure they miss their blood bag.” 

Nathras folded his hands together, index fingers pointing up, and tapped his pursed lips. “Abelas, why do you taunt me so?” He smirked. “I’m not the only one who has betrayed their duty.”

Abelas glared.

Nathras took another step, closing the distance between them. He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “I know what you did, Abelas. I can sense the vir’abelasan in her. Why would you abandon your duty? Why would you let the vir’abelasan be taken by this… this  banal’ras?”

“You are the shadow here, Nathras. She is more worthy than you ever could have been,” Abelas retorted.

Nathras let out a vicious laugh. “Oh, _Abel_ as! Don’t tell me you _have feelings_ for this little bitch?” 

Abelas snapped. He charged at Nathras, knocking them both to the ground. Abelas landed a punch to Nathras’ face before he could react. Nathras tried to punch him, but Abelas blocked him easily. He went for Abelas’ neck, wrapping his fingers around and squeezing. Abelas continued to attack, landing an elbow between Nathras’ ribs. He coughed and sputtered, his grip on Abelas’ neck weakening. 

Nathras shoved his knee against Abelas’ broken leg. Abelas groaned in pain. His leg went out from beneath him, leaving him half-lying on Nathras. The new angle gave Nathras more leverage against Abelas’ neck. Abelas grabbed Nathras’ other arm, smashing it to the ground. It landed at an odd angle, making a sickening crack. Nathras roared in pain, sending electric shocks through Abelas’ neck. 

Abelas froze, his nerves paralyzed by the electricity. Nathras took the opportunity to flip them, pinning Abelas beneath him. He put his full weight down on Abelas’ neck, still sending shocks through him. Abelas tried to fight against the spell but his mana still had not recovered. He batted at Narthas’ hand, but it was no use. He heard Nathras’ vicious laughter echoing in his head as everything went black.

\-----

Abelas woke against a cold, damp wall, wrists and ankles shackled and his leg and head throbbing. He recognized the room as the jail beneath the temple. He saw Amaya to his left, shackled in the same condition. Her hair was matted, stuck to her face with sweat, and her lip was split open. Her wrists were badly burned underneath the shackles, and he could only imagine what the rest of her body looked like. Her head lolled listlessly to the side, but she straightened up when she saw Abelas was awake. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was still silenced. He could feel the magic muting spell Nathras had cast on her, though he hadn’t bothered to use one on Abelas. _I am already useless as it is,_ he thought.

“Amaya… I am so sorry that I was not able to save you, Ashavise. Nathras is an evil man. He was once a sentinel, like me. During our war with the Tevinter shemlen, Nathras betrayed us, joining the enemy’s side. He gave them secrets in exchange for his safety.”

He took a deep breath. “It appears the magisters have been keeping him alive through blood magic, or some other terrible means. I cannot fathom what he may have in store for us,” Abelas said quietly. He looked into her eyes, expecting to see fear, or disappointment, even anger. 

Instead, her eyes were warm, full of affection, as if to say she didn’t blame him. She stretched her arm as far as it would go in its shackle, and he did the same, taking her hand in his. Instantly, warmth spread through his fingers, traveling up his nerve endings, through his chest and up into his brain. His head tingled with the sensation, and before he knew what was happening, thoughts began to filter into his mind, unbidden and not his own.

 _“Can you understand me?_ ” they asked. Abelas nodded. _“The voices from the Well are helping me. I’m not sure how, but they told me to take your hand and focus my thoughts into you.”_

Abelas nodded again, opening his mouth to reply, when a door opened on the opposite side of the room.

“How cute. The little lovebirds are holding hands,” Nathras taunted.

Abelas snarled. “Why have you imprisoned us here? What do you want with us?”

Nathras smiled, bending down to pick up Amaya’s free hand. She tried to pull away but he gripped her wrist, pressing the metal shackle into her fresh burns. She winced with pain, squeezing her eyes shut, and Abelas could feel her agony through their connection. _“It’s okay,”_ she said.

“It is quite a coincidence that my… compatriots… have been looking for a girl with a mark just like this one,” Nathras said, rubbing his thumb along the Anchor on Amaya’s palm. “The Elder One has been growing more and more impatient, thinking the Inquisition was tricking him by pretending she was missing.” He laughed. “How funny that she should turn up here, with _you_ of all people.”

“Leave her alone!” Abelas yelled. “The power of the Anchor cannot be used by Corypheus or your Tevinter masters. You think they will reward you? She is of no use to you, or them!” 

Nathras let Amaya’s hand go, turning towards Abelas. “That is where you are wrong, old friend.” He opened his arms wide in front of him. “Join me, Abelas! We will take this little witch to Tevinter, where they can experiment on her and learn the secrets of the vir’abelasan.” His eyes widened. 

“Her blood will no doubt be invaluable when used in blood magic. If she turns out to be useless, Corypheus will get the satisfaction of killing her himself.” An evil grin spread across his face. “And you and I? We will be treated like kings—we will become royalty when Corypheus ascends to the Black Throne. Then we will rule forever, as we were always meant to!”

 _“Keep holding my hand. The voices are telling me how to pass my mana to you,”_ Amaya whispered in his mind. 

“And what will happen if I don’t join you?” Abelas asked.

Nathras knelt down in front of him, staring into his eyes. Nathras’ black irises bored into him, and for a moment Abelas was afraid that he could see what was happening between himself and Amaya. He could feel her mana pouring into him, filling him far beyond the paltry level he’d achieved since his injuries. He could feel the magic sing in his veins, as if he was filled with not only Amaya’s mana, but her strength as well.

“If you don’t join me, dear friend, I can only hope that the magisters keep you alive. They haven’t had fresh Elvhen blood for a long time.” He smirked. “With you around they won’t need to bleed me anymore. That is, if you don’t die from the Blight first.” He nodded towards Abelas’ arm, veins still black with the Taint. “Though if you cooperate, I’m sure they can find a way to cure you, or at least give you more time.”

Abelas felt his mana reach its maximum level and dropped Amaya’s hand. He gave a defeated sigh. Nathras held out his hand, and Abelas took it. 

A sinister smile spread across Nathras’ face. “I knew you would see it my way, Abelas.” He reached into his pocket and procured a key, quickly unlocking Abelas’ shackles and helping him stand up. 

Still holding Nathras’ hand, Abelas leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “I will never see things your way, Nathras. You are nothing but a traitor and a snake, selling out your brothers and sisters to the Tavhen instead of fighting alongside us.” 

As he spoke, Abelas cast a mana draining spell through Nathras’ hand. Abelas pulled away, summoning a whip of flame to his hand. He swung at Nathras, who barely had time to summon a weak barrier. The whip wrapped around Nathras’ wrist, searing into his skin. He howled with pain.

“And how did they reward you? By bleeding you practically dry, then using someone else’s blood to keep you alive,” Abelas continued.

Nathras shot small spears of ice at Abelas. One hit him in the shoulder, another grazing his ear. Abelas pulled the whip back and swung it rapidly, deflecting the icicles. Blood dripped down his arm. Nathras raised a wall of ice between them. Abelas cast an inferno, melting the wall in seconds. 

“Mythal’s body was not even cold when you betrayed her, joining those shemlen vipers instead. I will never, ever forgive you!” Abelas shouted.

Before Nathras could react, Abelas wrapped the whip around his throat. Nathras dropped to his knees.

Abelas stepped closer.

“Do your Tevinter owners know you’re here?” he asked, pulling the fiery whip tight against Nathras’ skin. 

Nathras let out a choked laugh. “You can’t threaten me. You know that I cannot be killed here. The sacred power of this temple will keep me immortal as long as I am within its walls.”

Abelas just smiled. “That would be true, if you were still one of the Elvhen. However, your body has been bled and replenished so many times, it is likely that there is no Elvhen left within you.”

Nathras’ eyes widened. “You’re lying. I will always be Elvhen.”

Abelas pulled the whip tighter, searing deep brands into Nathras’ neck. “Would you like to test that?” he mocked.

“Fine, fine!” Nathras whimpered. “I was trying to contact my masters, but I couldn’t reach them.”

“How?” Abelas asked. 

“My necklace. The amulet is a communicator. I can contact the wearer of its twin directly,” Nathras replied quickly.

Abelas tore the amulet from Nathras’ neck, smashing it beneath his foot. 

Nathras hissed. “What are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice quivering.

“What should have been done a long time ago,” Abelas replied. He drew a spirit blade into his hand, stabbing Nathras through the heart with it, then watched as he fell to the ground.

Dropping his weapons, Abelas quickly picked up the keys to the shackles and turned to Amaya. She had passed out from the mana transfer, so he carefully unlocked her shackles, pulling her into his arms once she was free. He poured healing magic into her, stroking her hair as he cradled her. 

“Ashavise...wake up. We’re safe now,” he whispered against her hairline.

She was breathing steadily, but she would not wake. Quickly, Abelas cast a healing spell over his leg, mending the bone easily with his restored mana. He then healed his shoulder where the icicle had struck him. Despite the amount of mana he was using, it did not seem to deplete; he was regenerating mana as quickly as he had before he’d been injured—even faster, maybe. 

Abelas stood with Amaya in his arms, holding her against his chest. Leaving Nathras on the floor, he carried Amaya out of the basement and back to their room, laying her down gently on the bed. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before sending another wave of healing magic through her. 

“Rest well, Ashavise. I will return shortly,” he whispered.

\----- 

Though the wound to the heart had certainly killed Nathras, Abelas did not want to take any risks regarding his possible immortality. With his leg now completely healed, Abelas had little trouble carrying Nathras through the Eluvian to the woods outside the village. He surrounded Nathras’ body with kindling, then placed a circle of stones around him before igniting the body with flames. Night had long since fallen, and the fire burned brightly, illuminating the entire area. He watched his former friend burn for a moment, a certain nostalgia threatening to come forward before it quickly dispersed. Abelas paid a quick trip to the village, gathering some food and supplies before returning to check on Amaya.

Abelas returned to find Amaya still sleeping, and decided to wash the evidence of the day from his body. When he finished, dawn was about to break, and he sat next to Amaya on the bed, pulling her into his arms and resting her head on his chest.

Amaya stirred, opening her eyes and whimpering softly. She smiled wearily up at Abelas, and his heart melted. “Did it work?” she asked, voice weak from exhaustion.

He nodded. “Yes, fenorain, you did so well.” He slowly ran his hand over her wrists, healing each as he went. 

“You saved us, Ashavise.” Abelas looked down at her, his eyes wet and shining with pure adoration. The warmth in his heart was uncontainable, the weight of it almost crushing compared to the sterile coldness of duty that had filled him for centuries. He held Amaya closer to him, brushing her hair out of her eyes and stroking her face. 

“In all my years I have never seen such a thing. I had heard about a skill only the Evanuris could attain—not casting spells to boost mana, but physically transferring mana from their bodies to another’s. I did not think it was possible for a mortal.” He smiled. “You are so incredible, Ashavise.”

“I only did what the voices from the Well told me to,” Amaya replied sleepily. “You’re the one who defeated Nathras.” She pushed her lips out in a slight pout. 

“I could not have done anything without you. Even with the power of the vir’abelasan, I do not know of any priest of Mythal who could perform such a feat,” Abelas said.

He ran his finger down Amaya’s split lip, healing the wound. She stared up at him, eyes wide like pale pools of liquid jade. 

Amaya swallowed. “Did you get my gift?” she asked softly.

Abelas nodded. Slowly, he lowered his face, pressing his lips against the inner curve of her ear. “Ara vhen'an,” he whispered. 

He could feel her breath hitch as he moved his lips from her ear, hovering along her jaw until he reached her mouth. She let out a shaky exhale, her pupils blowing wide as he stared down at her. He held the side of her face in his hand, thumb absently stroking her cheek. With all the care in the world, he lowered his lips to hers, enjoying the small whine that escaped her. She tasted of sweat and dried blood, which he licked greedily from her lips, savoring the taste. She sighed softly beneath him, her own tongue chasing his, and the warmth from his chest began pooling much lower. He started kissing her hungrily, practically devouring her mouth with his, his lips moving roughly against her own soft, pliant ones. He sucked in her lower lip, caressing it with his own before biting down, drawing a moan and a few drops of blood from his lover. He lapped at the new wound before slowly pulling away, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

Abelas watched Amaya’s face for a reaction, his heart racing. She looked up at him, features languid, intoxicated from their kiss. “Abelas…” she said softly. 

“There is something I wish to show you, ‘ma’lath,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written action scenes before so this was kind of difficult! 
> 
> I know at least one of you asked for Abelas' POV and this was the perfect chapter for that. I hope you guys enjoyed it (especially the ending, wooo!). As always, thank you all so much for your love, support, comments, and kudos. Let me know what you think! <3
> 
> By the way, this is how I imagine the dahl'amythal: http://www.deviantart.com/art/What-big-arms-you-have-129238109h
> 
> Translations from Project Elvhen, the Dragon Age Wikia, and some words of my own creation.
> 
> Dahl'amythal: A Keeper's stave is crafted from the wood of the dahl'amythal, or "tree of Mythal," a tree respected by the Dalish that does not normally thrive in human settlements. These staffs are given to a First upon replacing the former Keeper.
> 
> Nathras: like a serpent, lit. ‘a serpent it is.’ From the words: natha (serpent, reptile) + ra (it)
> 
> Shiral’an: Place of Journeying (the Crossroads). From: shiral (journeying, traveling, journey) + an (place)
> 
> Harellan: traitor (also trickster, rebel)
> 
> etunash: shit, crap, dung, feces
> 
> banal'varelan: one who has been exiled. From: banal'varem (exiled, banished, displaced, expelled) + elan (added to a verb to create an agent noun)
> 
> Tavhen: Tevene (from Tevinter)
> 
> girelen: owners, slave masters. From: gira (to own, to buy, to have) + elan (makes an agent noun) + en (plural, multiple)
> 
> banal'ras: shadow (a slur the ancient Elvhen use for the Dalish, i.e. when Abelas says "The ones we see in the forest, shadows wearing vallaslin? You are not my people.")
> 
> fenorain: Little precious. Similar to the english endearment ‘darling.’
> 
> Ara vhen'an (My heart) is a common way in Elvish to say "I love you."  
> vhen'an: the concept of home or the concept of the heart. Home being used when talking about where one feels at home. Heart when talking about the feelings of the heart, such as love.  
> Ara vhen'an / 'Ma vhen'an: My home/my heart. Similar to 'my love,' or 'my darling,' but signifying a much deeper connection. Essentially means, "Where you are, that is my home."
> 
> 'ma’lath: My love


	18. Union

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over the Elvhen phrases for translations! OR just view them at the bottom as usual.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for all of your support, comments, kudos, etc. I apologize for taking so long to update. This chapter was really hard for me, and on top of that I've been super busy and crazy these past several weeks. This chapter is longer than usual so hopefully it's worth the wait.

Amaya’s head was swimming. Everything that had happened… Nathras, Abelas’ words, the kiss… it was all too much. 

“There is something I wish to show you, ‘ma’lath,” Abelas whispered. 

Her heart fluttered in her chest. He was smiling down at her, his face only a few inches from hers, his eyes almost glowing in the dawn light. His gold irises shimmered with an intensity she hadn’t seen since they met at the Well of Sorrows. She nodded, too stunned to speak. 

Abelas took her hand, helping her up off the bed, then wrapping his arm around her waist as they walked. She vaguely noticed that he wasn’t limping anymore, but couldn’t process why that was significant. He led Amaya down a long hallway that stopped at a dead end. She gave him a confused look, but he said nothing as he pressed his hand against the blank wall. She felt magic pour from him, watching with great interest as the wall began to glow, a golden oval forming beneath the stone. It was an Eluvian, she realized, as the shape began to take on more detail. Finally, the Eluvian was fully formed, sparking glass and metal against solid stone. Amaya opened her mouth to speak only to find her jaw had already dropped open. 

“Where does this lead?” she asked. 

Abelas reached over to touch the Eluvian. He cast a spell to open it, stepping back to let Amaya through first. “These are my quarters,” he replied.

Amaya stepped into the mirror. She emerged at the edge of a meadow ringed with tall trees, presumably somewhere outside the temple. In the middle of the meadow was a large canopy bed carved from sylvanwood, with delicate gauzy curtains swaying in the early morning breeze. Sitting proudly on the bedside table was her dahl’amythal sculpture. Abelas had created tiny magelights that floated in between the branches, giving it an otherworldly glow. At the foot of the bed there was a chaise longue, larger than any Amaya had seen, its color and texture making it appear covered with moss. There were tall bookcases arranged in straight lines around the meadow, each filled to the brim with ancient texts. The bookshelves were arranged in such a way that they looked like makeshift walls, framing the “bedroom” within. Next to one of the bookshelves was a beautiful mahogany desk, papers neatly stacked upon it. On the opposite side of the meadow, next to another bookcase, stood a giant wardrobe. The rest of the meadow was open grass, save for a deep pool in the ground, lined with blue-green stones and filled with crystal clear water.

Amaya heard Abelas step through the Eluvian behind her. “What do you think?” he asked.

Amaya looked up at him. “You sleep here?” she asked, incredulous. “What if it rains?”

Abelas laughed, a light, gentle sound. He cast a spell and a small cloud formed above the meadow. It began to rain heavily, and Amaya instinctively covered her head so she wouldn’t get wet. Not a single drop fell on her. The rain was pooling above them, a few inches higher than the tops of the bookshelves. It looked like the rain stopped when it hit the bookshelves, but even the spaces where there were no bookcases weren’t getting wet. Streaks of water dripped straight down in those areas, like water running down a window. 

“Barriers?” Amaya asked. 

Abelas waved his hand and the rain disappeared. The puddles and streaks of water remained, revealing the shape of the “room.” 

“I can remove them if I desire,” Abelas said. “There is also one for the floor.” He waved his hand again and the grass beneath Amaya’s feet was suddenly covered by something hard and solid, like a wooden floor, though it looked as if was nothing was there.

“I thought you might like to stay here with me,” Abelas said. “I have recovered my mana and my injuries are healed, thanks to you. I would like to begin sleeping here again, but I do not wish to be without you.”

Amaya tried to process everything that had happened. She brought her hand up to rub her temple, cringing when her fingers came back coated in sweat and grime. 

“We’ll talk about this,” she said. “But first I need a bath.”

Abelas stepped up to the pool in front of them, crouching down by the edge. He placed his hand on one of the stones surrounding the pool, and the water lit up as if coming to life. Bubbles of air started to rise up from the bottom of the pool, and soon a soft cloud of steam wafted off the surface of the water. He pressed another stone, and a tray of fancy soaps, bath salts, and towels popped up from the ground. He walked over to the giant wardrobe and pulled out a bathrobe, laying it down on the tray with the towels. 

He turned to Amaya. “This should be everything you will need,” he said. “I will give you some privacy.” He started walking towards the Eluvian to leave. 

“No… You don’t have to…” Amaya said softly. “I’ll just stay in my smallclothes. I’d like to talk with you.”

Abelas turned, a barely perceptible blush coloring his cheeks. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Amaya nodded, even as she started removing her clothes. 

“I will be over there, then,” Abelas replied. He walked over and sat down on the sofa, about 10 feet away from the pool. He looked around the room absently, playing with one of the pillows on the couch. 

Amaya shed her clothes in a pile near the pool, keeping her breastband and smalls on. She stepped into the water, letting the warmth wash over her. She closed her eyes as she sank down into the pool, savoring the feeling of the heat melting everything away. She submerged herself completely, letting the water cover her from head to toe. For a moment, everything was still and quiet, her mind blank from the soothing water. She held her breath as long as she could, only emerging when her lungs burned unbearably. She looked over at Abelas, who was eyeing her with concern.

She smiled. “It feels good,” she said as she wiped water from her face. “Why don’t you join me?”

Abelas breathed deeply. It was obvious he had been trying not to stare; though he had seen her in her smallclothes before, it had been a few months, and now she was conscious and not near death. Her body had changed noticeably since coming to the temple. Without the constant fighting and grueling travel of the Inquisition, Amaya’s body had grown softer—rounder. Her breasts and arse were larger and heavier, even more so than before the Inquisition. Her arms were still strong but had lost a bit of their toned definition. The rest of her body took on a softer edge than before, a fact that Abelas likely couldn’t help but notice. He rose from the sofa and walked slowly over to the pool, stopping opposite Amaya. He avoided looking at her as he disrobed, leaving only his smallclothes on. It was a sight Amaya had grown somewhat accustomed to, but after their kiss earlier, just looking at his bare form caused her heart to flutter.

It wasn’t until he had stepped gently into the pool that Abelas looked at Amaya. His eyes widened as they slowly scanned her body, his lips parting slightly as he drank her in. He treaded across the pool to her as if being pulled by an invisible force, his eyes locked onto hers. A small gasp escaped her throat when he stopped in front of her, eyes molten and practically burning. 

His breathing was heavy as he stood in front of her. “May I help you bathe?” he asked. She could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to sound composed. 

Amaya nodded, afraid her voice would betray her. 

Abelas guided her over to a seat carved into the side of the pool and helped her sit. The water came up to just under her chin, so she knelt instead, facing the edge of the pool. He reached over to the tray of toiletries, picking up a bright green bar of soap. He lathered it up in his hands, then ran the bar down Amaya’s hair, creating more lather as he went. It smelled like citrus and lemongrass. He set the bar down, running his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back into Abelas’ hands, savoring the feeling. He kept massaging for several minutes, long past the point of cleanliness, and Amaya couldn’t help the small moan of pleasure that escaped as a warm tingle spread through her head. Abelas supported her neck as he leaned her back into the water, rinsing the soap from her hair with the same euphoric massage. He continued to hold her head in the warm water, circling his thumbs at the base of her skull. 

Amaya relaxed in his hold, letting her body float. Every nerve in her body tingled with warmth and her mind drifted away. She was falling asleep when she felt Abelas pulling her hips back down, startling her. He guided her over to the steps leading out of the pool and had her stand so that the water came up to her hips. He combed scented oil through her hair with his fingers, separating the strands and weaving them into a braid that wrapped around her head. He then picked up a jar of liquid soap, this one scented with sandalwood, cinnamon, and embrium, and rubbed it between his hands to create a milky lather. Slowly, he massaged the warm lather into Amaya’s back, starting at her neck. He rubbed deep circles into her tired shoulders, his fingers deftly breaking up every knot and ache. He slipped his fingers beneath the back of her breastband, relieving the tension in the muscles there before moving on. He continued, gathering more soap and trailing his hands down around her hips, his fingers gently gripping her hip bones while his thumbs pressed into the muscles of her lower back. She let out a surprised gasp followed by a small moan; the dual sensation of his fingers holding her hips while he massaged her tight muscles was more than a little pleasurable. 

Abelas cupped water in his hands and rinsed the soap from Amaya’s back before turning her around to face him. She shivered slightly, though her face was flushed. He smiled at her, all warmth, a sight she was still getting used to. She smiled back, and he picked up more soap, repeating the process over her front, carefully avoiding her breastband this time. Once he had rinsed her off, he had her sit at the top of the stairs in the pool, extending one of her legs at a time so that he could wash and massage them. When he reached each of her feet he sent small bursts of warmth through them as he massaged, leaving Amaya completely relaxed. She gave him a confused look as he guided her back down the steps into the pool again, stopping when the water reached her ribs. He just smiled again, motioning for her to close her eyes. She felt water run down her face and instinctively held her breath. Abelas rubbed a cream over her face—it smelled like lavender—before rinsing it away. He placed his fingers gently over her eyelids to signal her to keep them closed, and she inhaled deeply, holding her breath again.

Abelas spread something coarse, rough, and a little sticky over Amaya's lips—some type of scrub. As he rubbed the substance into her lips, she opened her mouth to exhale, tasting honey and mint. Before she had a chance to react, Abelas licked the scrub from her lips, his tongue moving slowly along her plump flesh. Her own tongue reached out instinctively, tasting a bit of the scrub before rubbing up against Abelas’ tongue. The taste of him—heavy, warm, with a hint of spice—mingled with the taste of the sugar crystals, honey, and mint, and Amaya sighed at the flavor. Her lips now clean and smooth, she lifted her mouth up to find Abelas’, moaning as his hands moved to hold her close, one behind her neck and the other against her back. As the kiss deepened she felt as if she was suffocating, all of the breath stolen from her lungs, until Abelas’ hand moved down her back, expertly undoing her breastband and pulling it away. He released her mouth, giving her a moment to catch her breath before his lips traveled down to her neck, gliding ever so gently across her skin before pressing down, teeth and tongue joining as he nipped and sucked deep marks into her skin from her jaw to her collarbone. 

In the back of her mind Amaya remembered that she had wanted to talk to Abelas, to discuss her future— _their_ future. But those thoughts quickly washed away as waves of desire flooded her entire being. Each mark Abelas left on her skin sent a jolt of pleasure through her, both from the feeling of his touch and from the knowledge that he was marking her as _his_. Abelas’ mouth moved to her breast, one hand cupping her as he wrapped his lips around her nipple, suckling her while his fingers gently squeezed. The hand behind her back now supported her weight as she arched her spine, giving Abelas easier access to her breasts. She keened loudly when he scraped his teeth along her sensitive nipple, her body aching for _more._ He moved on to Amaya’s other breast, stoking the flames of lust within her until she was consumed by a wildfire of need. Desire throbbed in her sex with each beat of her heart, needing to be touched, licked, filled. As if reading her mind, Abelas linked his arms underneath Amaya’s arse and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around himself as he continued to suckle her aching nipple. 

He carried her out of the pool and over to the bed, picking up a towel with one hand along the way. He set Amaya down in front of the bed, giving her breast a sharp nip before releasing it. Quickly, Abelas patted them both down with the towel, removing most of the water from their bodies. He then picked Amaya up again, laying her gently against the silk sheets of the bed. The fabric was cool against her heated skin, though it did nothing to calm her. Abelas climbed over her, pressing his lips to hers softly. He pulled back enough to look into both of her eyes, his liquid honey irises crystallizing as they plumbed the depths of her being. 

“Ashavise, be mine,” he whispered, barely more than breath against her lips. 

She nodded, leaning up slightly to kiss him again, hungrily, consuming his mouth with hers. She bit his lower lip, hard, and he growled, pushing her shoulders down into the mattress. A drop of blood fell from his lips onto hers as he hovered over her, panting fiercely. Unabashedly, Amaya pressed her lips together, spreading the blood over them as if it were lip color. She slipped her tongue out, slowly swiping along her lips to clean them, a small smirk lifting the corner of her mouth as she swallowed. 

Abelas’ whole body froze for just a moment, practically vibrating with tension. His eyes flashed, the only warning before he snapped. He gripped Amaya’s upper arms tight enough to bruise, supporting his weight on them as he crushed his lips against hers. His hips settled between her legs, thrusting roughly against her sex through their smallclothes. Amaya whimpered into his mouth, her hands reaching up to find some kind of hold. Her nails caught against Abelas’ chest and she scraped down, leaving little red lines against his skin. He groaned, rolling his hips down, his hard length rubbing against Amaya’s throbbing clit in a way that made her shudder. 

He dragged his tongue and teeth along her ear, sucking and nibbling on the tip. She gasped for breath, her chest heaving as her body became unbearably hot. She tried to touch Abelas’ smalls, but his weight on her biceps greatly limited her reach. He gave her a wicked smile before grabbing both her wrists, pinning them together above her head and binding them to the bed with a spell. She struggled for a moment, unused to this type of restraint, testing its limits. It was impossible to escape from physically, holding her tight with just the slightest amount of room to remain comfortable. She could have easily removed it with her own magic, but there was no need. She knew she was safe with Abelas. And _Creators_ , did she want this.

Abelas’ mouth and hands had been gone from her body too long and she whined loudly in protest. He responded by ripping her smalls off, throwing the torn fabric onto the floor. She gasped softly.

“Is this what you want, ‘ma’haurasha?” Abelas asked as he slid a finger into her welcoming heat. 

“Ahhhhh!” Amaya moaned loudly, clenching around him. 

He pumped the long digit in and out of her several times before adding another, thrusting deeply and curling up just enough to stroke the sensitive patch of flesh inside. Amaya bucked her hips, continuing to moan as she matched Abelas’ rhythm. He added a third finger, keeping up his tortuous pace and not giving her any time to adjust. He immediately began circling her clit with two fingers of his other hand, earning a pleasured scream and convulsions from Amaya. She shook her head from side to side, moaning and whimpering in turn. Her whole body shook and she closed her legs around Abelas’ hands, preventing him from moving. 

“"Ha’mi’in. Lasa em tua rosas’da’din,” he whispered, pressing soothing kisses to her forehead. 

She slowly opened her legs, giving an almost pained whimper as Abelas began pleasuring her again. She struggled against her restraints, trying to find something to grip with her hands. She was hardly breathing, her loud whimpers and moans mingling with quick panting breaths. Though she was anything but inexperienced, Abelas made her feel like a blushing maiden, his mastery over her body making her react in ways she never had before. She was close, so close, yet every touch only brought her ever higher, release just out of her reach. She was almost crying, the pleasure becoming too much for her small body to contain. She was so high up she was afraid now to fall over the edge.

Suddenly, Abelas increased his pace, fingers moving in and out of her at impossible speed as the ones circling her clit did the same. Amaya’s moans become broken, almost sobs, her throat seizing as she climbed to dizzying heights. Tears fell from her eyes as she reached the top. Abelas sent a small bolt of lightning into both his hands, the added sensation bringing her to climax. Her whole body froze, though it felt like she was vibrating within her skin, electricity spreading from her sex up to her head, then back down to her toes. Her vision and her hearing were gone, every sense replaced by the pure sensation of her orgasm. She was distantly aware that Abelas was still fucking her with his fingers, pulling her through the orgasm until she released her juices all over his hands. She slowly came down from her high, panting roughly. She watched, entranced, as Abelas brought his hands up to his face, dripping with her pleasure, and licked them completely clean. 

“Mar rodhe ir’on,” Abelas said, his eyes flickering with unquenched lust. “Isalan ea in’ma, ‘ma’asha.”

He slid his smallclothes down, revealing his throbbing erection, and Amaya couldn’t stifle her gasp. Her eyes were glued to his length as he continued pulling the smalls down, finally kicking them off before kneeling in front of her again. He was at least as long as the Iron Bull, if not longer. Though his girth was a little less than Bull’s, he was still wider than three of his fingers, and that had been a little difficult for her after _months_ without being stretched and filled. Abelas sat there, letting her look, a small smirk on his face as he watched her eyes widen and her mouth drop open. 

Though she had just experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life, Amaya couldn’t help but clench her walls desperately as she imagined Abelas’ cock inside of her, fresh slick dripping from her swollen lips.

“Sathan, pala em,” she said breathily. 

“Garas, aman ara’mis,” Abelas replied, his voice low. 

Amaya the restraint around her wrists disappeared and she sat up on her elbows, looking at Abelas. He took one of her hands and pulled her up, motioning for her to come to him. She crawled over, kneeling in front of him so that their knees touched. He took her wrists in his hands, pulling them up to his mouth to kiss, lick, and suck on the tender skin there. He sent healing magic through his mouth, soothing the soreness from being bound. Amaya moaned softly, her eyes slowly falling closed. The discomfort quickly faded, though the red marks did not, made darker by Abelas sucking love marks around them. She opened her mouth to speak but he shushed her. His hands came to rest around Amaya’s waist, his fingers brushing lightly against her ribs. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, he lifted her, pulling her up onto his lap. She let her knees fall on either side of his, straddling him. Her arms reached up to hug his neck. He held her, arms wrapping around her back as he pressed his forehead to hers. They both closed their eyes, letting their panting breaths relax and slow, inhaling deeply of each other. 

One of Abelas’ hands came up to rest on Amaya’s cheek, thumb brushing softly against her lips. He moved his thumb, closing the distance between them and kissing her tenderly. Their lips moved together gently, unhurried, their previous urgent lust set aside for languid sweetness. Time erased itself as they melted against each other. The sun had risen higher, casting its morning glow through the gauzy bed curtains, gently heating their skin. The kiss softened and slowed, finding its end, though their mouths did not part.

“Isalan hima sa i’na,” Abelas whispered against her lips. 

He pulled her closer to him so that their chests touched, squeezing her tightly. Her legs now straddled his hips, his arousal pressed up between their stomachs. She held onto him as if she would float away, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She could feel his pulse against her lips, his breath soft and warm on her shoulder. Slowly, she rose up on her knees, tilting her hips so that her sex rubbed against Abelas’ length. He shuddered, holding her tighter. She moved again, the evidence of her own arousal letting her slide against him with ease. He whispered something, possibly her name, though it was too faint to tell. Amaya pressed her lips to his artery, the blood there pumping faster. Her tongue snaked out, giving a tentative lick. She lifted her hips as high as she could, then slid down ever so slowly, never losing contact with Abelas. The breath against her shoulder hitched. 

She was overcome with the need to be connected to Abelas, not just a physical union but something deeper. Her body ached to be filled by him, yes, but this ache sat deep within her chest. It couldn’t be satisfied by bodily pleasure, and yet she knew that joining with Abelas in that most intimate of acts would fulfill this need too. She wouldn’t just be sharing her body with him; she would be sharing a piece of her soul. As if reading her mind Abelas leaned back, his hands moving down to her hips. He lifted her up so that her entrance lined up with the tip of his length. He looked into her eyes, a wordless question. She nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Ar lath ma,” Amaya whispered. 

Abelas took a deep breath. Slowly, he lowered Amaya until the head of his erection was just within her walls. She gave a breathy moan as she felt herself stretch around him. Even with just the head inside, he was already pressing up against the sensitive spot within her. Her knees shook. She adjusted quickly, squeezing her walls around him as a signal to keep going. He held onto her hips, sliding her slowly down his length. Amaya tried to breathe slowly as he entered her, her nerve endings singing with pleasure and a hint of pain from the stretch. It seemed like forever before her knees hit the bed again and she could lower herself the rest of the way. Abelas still held onto her hips, guiding her to go slowly. She pushed down until he was fully sheathed inside of her, the tip of his cock brushing against her cervix. As soon as he bottomed out Amaya let her full weight fall onto his lap, pushing him the tiniest bit deeper within her. Amaya moaned loudly. She was finally being filled, her cunt stretched deliciously around Abelas’ perfect cock. He moaned too, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his jaw drop open in intense pleasure. They held each other as close as possible, neither of them moving, both savoring the feel of becoming one.

Amaya moved first, lifting herself up as much as she could on her knees, then pushing back down again. She repeated the motion several times, letting out soft gasps and pants as she slowly rose and fell on Abelas’ massive erection. She couldn’t get very far without assistance, only rising a couple of inches with each movement. The majority of Abelas’ length stayed trapped within her tight heat. He started moving with her, the two of them rocking together slowly as they clung to each other. The way she felt was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. He was so deep within her, stretching her so wide, that their gentle rocking touched places within her she wasn’t even aware of until now. It was so much more intense than the hard, fast, pounding sex she was used to. She looked into Abelas’ eyes, and he looked into hers. It was like seeing him for the first time. He was laid bare before her, his entire being exposed and vulnerable. She knew in an instant that he was seeing her the same way, that after all they had been through together, right now they were just two souls meeting for the first time.

Their rocking sped up, both of them moving faster and harder as their pleasure increased. After a while Abelas stilled, signaling Amaya to do the same. He lifted her up again by her hips, stopping when he was about to slip out of her. He held her there for a moment, teasing, as she clenched her walls and whimpered, desperate for him to fill her again. He lowered her slowly, hissing at the feeling. When he bottomed out they both gasped, the pleasure even more intense than before. He lifted her again, going a bit faster this time, their gasps turning to moans. He repeated the motion again and again, each time moving harder and faster; each time their moans grew louder and louder. Amaya moved her hips to match his movements, pushing him deeper and clenching her walls tighter around him. She held onto his shoulders for support. His fingers dug into the flesh of her arse. The next time Abelas lifted her up, he did not go slow. He slammed Amaya down on his cock, making the filthiest sound as their bodies collided, both soaked with her juices. She screamed, overwhelmed by the pleasure-pain from such a rough thrust. Abelas repeated the action again and again, groaning loudly along with Amaya’s screams. 

It didn’t take very long for Amaya’s pleasure to begin peaking again. She began clenching her cunt wildly around Abelas’ cock, feeling her end drawing close. Abelas quickly changed position, sitting down and crisscrossing his legs beneath Amaya. He increased his pace, slamming her down against him with renewed vigor. The new position gave her more leverage to impale herself on his length, and she bounced on his dick as fast and hard as she could. She began to whimper as her orgasm drew close, her movements weakening as she started to lose control. Abelas gripped her tighter, lifting and lowering her as he thrust up, trying to help her reach her end. Her whimpers grew louder until they formed one long syllable. She stopped bouncing and her orgasm washed over her, bathing her in warmth. Lights flashed behind her eyes and her ears filled with white noise. Electricity danced beneath her skin, fading into soft heat as Abelas fucked her through her climax.

“Rosa’da’din in’em,” she said breathlessly. 

After a few more deep thrusts, Abelas spent himself deep within her, his hot seed shooting through her cervix and coating her womb. He moaned her name loudly as he continued to cum, filling Amaya’s cunt and eventually spilling out around his cock. She leaned forward, resting her weight against him, and he fell back against the bed. They lied there for a while, still connected, breathing heavily, just holding each other. Eventually their breathing slowed and they cooled down. Abelas tried to get Amaya to move, but he soon found she had fallen asleep against him. He scooted them up the bed until they were against the pillows, then pulled a sheet up over them. He cast a spell and the bed curtains turned thick and black, blocking out the late morning sun. He kissed the top of her head, still buried deep inside her. He stroked Amaya’s back, rubbing gentle circles until he drifted off to sleep as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oops, my kinks are showing..._
> 
> This was the hardest chapter ever for me to write. I wanted to get the tone just right, the wording just perfect...I mean this is a big deal! Their first time! After all that slow burning there are finally some real flames!
> 
> I hope this was worth the wait, though I'm not entirely happy with it. I don't think it can ever be as good as I want it to.
> 
> I really look forward to your feedback! Thanks for reading ♥ 
> 
> As always, Elvhen translations are from Project Elvhen. (Thank you FenxShiral for coming up with so many dirty phrases!)
> 
> 'ma'lath: my love  
> ‘ma’haurasha: my honey. A very sexual endearment that essentially means “You make me wet,” or “You make me hard.” Fyi: Haurasha (honey) is slang for precum, and the wetness of the vagina.  
> Ha’mi’in. Lasa em tua rosas’da’din: Relax. Let me make you cum.  
> Mar rodhe ir’on: You taste delicious.  
> Isalan ea in’ma, ‘ma’asha: I long to be inside of you, my woman.  
> Sathan, pala em: Please, fuck me.  
> Garas, aman ara’mis: Come to me, I shall sheathe my blade within you.  
> Isalan hima sa i’na: I desire/need to become one with you.  
> Ar lath ma: I love you.  
> Rosa’da’din in’em: (I want you to) Cum inside of me.


	19. Amelan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abelas is a filthy old elf and I am a very nasty woman.
> 
> The first part of this is purely self-indulgent SIN and can and most definitely should be skipped. Just go down to the "-----" and start reading from there, please! I promise most of this chapter is actually important content. Just skip the filth. The filthy filthy filth.
> 
> Also, Merry Christmas from this filthy animal!

Abelas was having the most magnificent dream, so vivid and detailed in felt real. Amaya’s little body was on top of his, all her weight resting on him. He was buried deep within her delicious heat, her tight walls fluttering softly around his hard length. He held a soft, heavy breast in each hand, squeezing lightly, rolling his thumbs along pert little nipples. Above him, Amaya mewled so sweetly he couldn’t help but snap his hips, thrusting up roughly into her perfect little pussy. She whimpered loudly and Abelas’ eyes snapped open—it hadn’t been a dream after all. His precious little nymph stared down at him with sleepy eyes, her lips red and swollen, her beautiful creamy skin painted red and purple with his love marks. She looked so innocent as she sat up, touching the place where they were joined and looking back at him with wide eyes. 

“Do you like that, da’len?” he asked, his voice low but sweet. “My little Ashavise loved her ha’hren’s cock so much she fell asleep on it.” 

He felt Amaya clench around him at his words. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, a blush coloring her cheeks. Abelas sat up, grabbing Amaya by the waist and flipping them over, settling over her. He leaned down to kiss her, his lips moving against hers languidly. He began to move his hips, pulling out of her tight heat for a moment. She whined briefly at the emptiness until he slammed back in, making her moan loudly.

“So wet for me already,” Abelas observed, giving her a smug grin. He thrust into her again, this time feeling her walls squeeze his cock when he hit home. “Fenedhis!” he yelled, shuddering at the feeling. “Such a naughty girl.”

“Mmm ha’hren,” Amaya cried from beneath him, “Pala em elvar’el!” 

Abelas growled, grabbing Amaya’s legs and resting them on his shoulders. His hands went to her hips, wrapping around her arse and holding her tight. He began fucking her with abandon, moving as fast as physically possible, each thrust causing her body to shake. He was fucking her so hard and deep, he could feel the head of his cock pushing through her cervix. Were it not for his hands holding her to him, she would have crashed into the headboard from the power of his thrusts. She came quickly, screaming, a sudden gush of fluid drenching his cock, her walls squeezing him so tightly he almost couldn’t pull out. He showed no mercy, continuing his tortuous pace through her orgasm so that another followed instantly. Her body went limp and weak, even her inner muscles barely moved around him; she couldn’t take any more pleasure. 

“Ha’hren…” she whimpered, mouth slack and eyes unfocused as she looked up at him. 

“Ir abelas, ‘ma sa’lath, just a little longer…” he whispered back, using one hand to smooth her hair away from her face. 

The sight of his fierce, strong woman turned into a meek, mewling mess beneath him made Abelas throb with lust. He made his thrusts gentler, though he kept the same pace, closing his eyes as he sought his end. A few minutes later he reached it, pushing through Amaya’s cervix once more to spill his seed deep within her. She whimpered softly as he spurted into her, a small bump forming under her bellybutton where his cum filled her womb. He watched in awe as the bump grew with each stream of his seed. It had never happened before, and he wondered if it was because Amaya was so small, much smaller than any of the ancient Elvhen he had been with long ago, or perhaps modern elves were just...different. After he shot the last hot stream of his cum into her, he pulled out slowly. Both of them winced a little at the loss, and Abelas watched as his semen practically gushed out of Amaya’s cunt. The little bump was still there, and he knelt down to kiss it, licking, sucking, and biting to mark the spot so he could remember it even after his seed no longer stretched her belly. 

Amaya’s eyes had fallen shut when Abelas came, and she kept them closed. She rolled over onto her side, holding her tiny bump in her hands. 

“Soo full…” she mewled. “It hurts, ha’hren…”

Abelas pressed a soft kiss to her temple before picking her up, cradling her in his arms. “I am so sorry, precious. Ha’hren didn’t know he would fill you up so much,” he whispered sweetly. 

He carried her over to the bathing pool, pressing the stone switch with his foot. He carried Amaya down the steps into the pool until they were both covered up to their chests in the warm water. He changed his hold on Amaya, resting her head on his shoulder and supporting her body with one arm. With the other hand he gently massaged the tiny swell of her stomach, softly pressing down to help ease his spend’s exit from her body. She moaned softly, eyes scrunched closed, and he watched the milky substance drip from her pussy to float in the clear water of the bath. Only a small amount was released, and he realized he would need to do something else to help relieve her of his load.

Abelas laid out some towels on the ground, then gently set Amaya down on them. She whined, reaching for him almost helplessly. Abelas guided her to bend her knees, then pulled her forward so that her sex was at the edge of the pool. He held her legs, wrapping them around his shoulders. He slowly began licking and sucking at the inside of her thighs, leaving trails of love marks as he inched closer to her cunt. He gave her slit a tentative lick and she mewled, shaking her head as she tried to push him away. 

“Noo ha’hren…” she whimpered, “too sensitive…” 

Abelas cooed at her, pressing soft kisses to her thighs and along the length of her sex. “Shhh. Relax, da’len. Ha’hren knows what is best,” he said sweetly. 

Amaya nodded, closing her eyes and putting her hand over her mouth. He resumed his activity, licking up and down her folds, savoring her flavor. With the rest of his seed trapped in her womb, all he could taste was her. He groaned as he lapped at her, her sweet, tangy arousal more heavenly than anything he had ever tasted. He moved his attentions upward to her throbbing clit, wrapping his lips around it in a gentle caress. Amaya keened, the sensation already becoming too intense for her. Abelas pressed his lips harder against her flesh, sealing his mouth around and sucking on her little nub. She choked out a small cry as he increased the pressure. Without warning, he let go of her button and began flicking his tongue over it, soft and slow at first. She alternated between whimpering and moaning, squeezing her legs around Abelas’ head. He growled, delighting in the way he was making her feel. Her whimpers and moans grew louder as he increased his speed, and her hips bucked up into his face. He was almost suffocating, every sense filled only with her. As her sweet cries grew louder he licked harder and faster, committed to his task. Finally her body arched, practically levitating off the ground, and he had to hold her thighs in a bruising grip to keep her from moving away. 

“NNGH! Ha’hren!!” Amaya screamed, almost decapitating him with her thighs. Her juices poured out into Abelas’ waiting mouth. He drank them down greedily, still furiously lapping at her. Her body continued to convulse, expelling his seed from deep within her after her own release was finished. He quickly brought her back down into the warm pool, continuing to rub her clit with his fingers as he gently massaged her belly, helping her release as much of his semen from her body as possible. She sighed with relief when he finally stopped, most of the pressure on her womb now relieved. She leaned up to kiss Abelas, mingling her tongue with his and holding him tightly. 

When she pulled away she pressed her forehead to his, saying softly, “Ma serannas, ha’hren.”

Abelas helped her rinse before washing his face off, then carried her back out of the pool. It was now late afternoon, and despite the fabulous meal he’d just had, Abelas was starving. He and Amaya quickly dried off and dressed—he in his usual tunic and breeches and she in one of his tunics. He smirked at her choice of outfit but remained silent, enjoying the sight of her body draped loosely with his clothing—with nothing underneath. Together they headed over to the kitchen and began preparing the evening meal. They didn’t speak much, both of them glowing and giddy, exchanging knowing smiles and gentle kisses. There were simply no words adequate enough to describe what they had shared together. 

Abelas couldn’t stop thinking about their play, the dynamic that had formed and the roles they had filled. Heat pooled in his groin whenever he thought about Amaya’s role, innocent and pure and inexperienced, letting him dominate her, calling him her ha’hren. It made him feel things he wasn’t proud of to imagine her as his young, virginal student, trusting him completely with her body and her pleasure. It wasn’t that far from the truth; she was millenia younger than he, and though she had experience it was surely nothing compared to his. He reveled in the idea of of being her caretaker. His most intense memory was the way his cum looked filling Amaya’s belly. Though he would never admit it, he almost wished his seed had planted itself within her, that the small swell of her stomach had been from his child growing inside her. He imagined how she would look, her small frame round and full with life—a life they had created together. It was too much to dream, with her responsibilities and his almost certain death from the Blight, it seemed impossible. Not to mention whether she would want a child, or even a bondmate for that matter. He was a fool to hope for such a thing. 

\-----

“I’ve thought about a name for you too,” Amaya said. She pierced several pieces of green beans with her fork and brought them up to her mouth.

Abelas’ eyebrows shot up. “Oh?” he asked. He was poking around at the meat on his plate, but he dropped his fork and turned all his attention to Amaya. 

“It’s not really a new name. I mean, it’s actually an old name, but I think it fits,” she said, a little nervously. “Amelan.” She couldn’t contain her blush.

“Amelan?” he asked.

“You know… Short for Amelan’u’vunen.” She searched his face for a reaction. “Unless you prefer Abelas, of course. I know you must have changed your name for a reason.”

He laughed wryly. “I did not choose to be called Abelas.”

Amaya put her fork down and stared at him. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Abelas sighed. “I should have told you this sooner, when you first asked about it, but I did not want you to think ill of me,” he said. “Shall we go somewhere more comfortable first?” he asked.

“Okay,” Amaya said softly. She gathered their plates and brought them up to the basin to rinse them off. 

They walked in silence back to Abelas’ room, sitting down together on the long couch. Amaya folded her hands in her lap, then looked up at Abelas expectantly. He rested his arm across the footboard of the bed behind them, drumming his fingers nervously against the wood. He cleared his throat.

“Abelas is the name that was given to me when I became a sentinel,” he explained. “It was part of my punishment.”

Amaya’s eyes widened, but she remained silent. 

“Millennia ago, when Mythal was still alive, I was a priest in training at this temple,” he continued. 

“Mythal liked to visit her temples on occasion to meet the priests and priestesses. Usually she would only speak with the senior priests, but on this occasion we were training in the courtyard when she arrived. She wanted to watch us, so the head priest had us demonstrate some of the techniques we had been practicing. When it was my turn, she seemed so bored with the whole thing that I decided to do something different. I cast a spell that I had learned on my own, one that was not a regular part of the training.” He took a deep breath.

“I used magic to enter her mind. I could hear her thoughts, and I could speak to her directly through that connection. She was completely unprepared, otherwise it would have been impossible to accomplish.” He paused. “No one else knew that I had done it. They sensed the magic, but it looked as if my spell had failed. In her mind, Mythal was intrigued, impressed by my boldness. She told me through thought to follow her. She told the priests that she needed to have a moment alone with me. She then severed the connection.

“I was terrified. I didn’t know what punishment she might have for me, but it was likely to be severe. To have a mere priest in training commit such a crime against our most revered—Creator, as you would call her—was unheard of. She took me to her private quarters; a place similar to this, but much more extravagant. She had me sit with her and drink tea, of all things. We did not speak. After our tea was finished, she looked straight into my eyes and asked me why I had done it. I was so nervous I did not even think. I said, ‘You looked bored.’ I immediately began to apologize, realizing the stupidity of my reply. Mythal stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, and then she laughed.

“I did not know what to do. No one had ever seen our patron laugh before. She laughed so hard she had to lean over and grab her stomach. When she finally finished, there were tears in her eyes. She stood up and motioned for me to do the same. ‘Come swim with me,’ she said. She led me over to a tall waterfall cascading into a small lake. She removed her clothing and jumped in. I followed. After spending several hours with her, she asked me to spend the night in her quarters. In the morning she told me I would be her lover.”

Amaya’s jaw dropped. 

Abelas took her hand in his, then continued, “It was not uncommon for Mythal to take priests as her lovers, though it was unheard of for her to choose a priest in training.”

“You were the lover of _Mythal,_ All-Mother, Creator, an actual living _goddess?_ ” Amaya asked. Her tone was a cross between disbelief and outrage. She ripped her hand away from Abelas, turning her body in the opposite direction and crossing her arms.

Abelas rolled his eyes. “You are not a child. Do not sulk,” he said sharply.

Amaya gave a defiant huff. 

Abelas clenched his fists tightly. “This behavior is not fitting for a woman such as yourself,” he stated. 

“I don’t care,” she replied. “I’m just supposed to be okay with the fact that you had a relationship with a Creator?” 

He sighed. “It is not as if I was given a choice. No one refuses Mythal.”

Amaya sniffed. “How am I supposed to compare to her?”

Abelas cupped her cheek, turning her to face him. “There is no comparison,” he said, staring deep into her eyes.

Amaya shrank, curling into herself. She closed her eyes and silent tears spilled onto her cheeks. 

“Ashavise, she is the one who cannot compare to you,” Abelas said softly as he reached up to wipe away her tears. He pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly against his chest.

“Mythal was formidable, yes, powerful and terrifying. But she was a goddess, and I was just her slave. I revered Mythal, worshipped her, since I was old enough to speak. That was my duty, my purpose in life. Spending time with her in the way that I did lessened my esteem for her. She was not perfect, as we had been taught, and seeing her true self was disappointing for me.” He paused, pressing kisses to the top of her head. 

“Please do not think that you are anything less than incredible, ‘ma sa’lath,” Abelas said. “You are more precious to me than anyone or anything has been or ever will be. Please believe that.”

Amaya nodded into his chest, taking a deep breath. He gently stroked down her back, resting his cheek on the top of her head and inhaling the scent from her hair. 

“May I continue my story, vhenan’ara?” he asked. She nodded again.

“Several centuries passed. I continued my training, but would spend time with Mythal whenever she visited the temple. I had completed all of the demon trials except the last one—Pride. When I awoke in the trial, I was with Mythal in her quarters. She told me that I was special, better than all of the other priests, that I did not need to continue training. She said that I would partake of the vir’abelasan and become her personal guard. I believed her, abandoning the temple, and then I woke up. I had failed the test.” Abelas explained.

“After the test was over and my mistake was made known to me, I still felt that I was being treated unjustly. I had believed the demon version of Mythal; I truly felt that I was above all the others, that my relationship with Mythal made me beyond reproach. The next night I traveled to the Temple of Mythal. I snuck past the sentinels and partook of the vir’abelasan, certain that the goddess would bless me with her favor. When the water surrounded me, the voices I heard were tainted by sadness. They wailed and screamed, and I could not understand their words. Everything went black, and the screaming was replaced by an unbearable screeching sound. I felt myself falling, an endless descent, until I lost consciousness.

“When I awoke I was in a basement, chained to the floor. My magic was gone. I was alone. I yelled and screamed for what seemed like hours. Finally two guards came and unchained me from the wall, then escorted me to a large chamber. They sat me down on a chair facing a long, narrow table. Seated across from me was the high council of the priests of Mythal. They told me that I was being tried for stealing the vir’abelasan. I told them this was a mistake and asked to see Mythal. The chief of the council stood, leaning across the table towards me. 

‘Did no one tell you?’ he asked. 

‘Tell me what?’ I replied. 

‘Mythal is gone. She has been murdered,’ he told me.

I cannot remember what happened next. My mind went blank; I was unable to comprehend anything. I must have asked, ‘How?’ 

‘She was betrayed by the other Evanuris,’ the chief said. ‘She is gone, and she cannot help you.’ 

“I did not feel pain. Her death did not hurt me. I was simply shocked. I thought my future had been secured. My life had a plan, and suddenly it was all gone. They read me my crimes and told me to defend myself. I could not speak. I sat silently, staring at the ground. The council left to deliberate. They returned—a few minutes, or a few hours later, I did not notice—and announced my punishment. 

‘Amelan’u’vunen Lealanen, stand and hear your judgement,’ the chief ordered me. I stood, still staring at the ground, still unable to process all that had occurred. 

‘For your crimes against Mythal and her temple, your punishment shall be to live forever as guardian, protecting the vir’abelasan from those who might despoil it. You will be stripped of your name and your position within the priesthood. You shall share your name with the bounty you now protect. Henceforth you will be called Abelas, guardian sentinel for Mythal’s temple and vir’abelasan,’ he read off his scroll. 

“So I became Abelas, sorrow my destiny and my charge. All those around me knew my story, knew what I had done. Though I was to be their leader, the sentinels did not respect me. They hated me, mocking me when they thought I could not hear. A new priest came every few centuries to partake of the vir’abelasan, each casting their eyes down on me. It did not take long, however, for Elvhenan to crumble. Over the centuries the Eluvians began to go black, unused. The temple halls were silent. After several hundred years with no outside contact, it became clear that the world we knew was gone. Charged to live until we were killed in duty, denied Uthenara, we slept, waiting. Intruders came and we awoke. We killed them off, our numbers growing smaller with every encounter. 

“I led the other sentinels as best I could,and they grew to respect me, but this did not bring me happiness. I was an empty shell, all traces of my prior self erased. I lived only for my duty, fighting without fear or restraint. The vir’abelasan was all I had, and I wanted nothing more than to give my life for the Well. Perhaps I simply wished to die, weary of the world and the task that had befallen me. I knew that my People had gone, replaced by whispers of what we once were, and I succumbed to helplessness.” 

He paused, taking a small breath. “Then, one day, you battled your way into my Temple, this tiny, stubborn mortal—taking the power that I had suffered an infinite number of your lifetimes for—as if it were nothing. You surprised me by surviving the initial contact, and I thought perhaps you could survive the training as well. In an instant I decided to take you, to keep the Well safe and ensure that it was not wasted within you.”

Abelas took Amaya’s face in his hands, cupping her cheeks and looking into her eyes. “How ignorant I was. You are more worthy of Mythal’s gift than I could have ever hoped to be.”

Amaya held his hands against her cheeks, pulling them down into her lap. “Abelas—”

“Please, call me Amelan,” Abelas interrupted. 

“Amelan…” Amaya said softly, “Thank you for telling me. This is... a lot to process. I think that I need some time.”

“Of course,” he replied. The look in her eyes was hard to discern, creating a heaviness in his chest. “Take as much time as you need.”

Amaya stood, still holding his hands in hers. She gave them a squeeze before letting go, turning and walking through the Eluvian out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me you didn't read the first part--please? Thank you!
> 
> Also wow I have been holding to that little nugget of backstory since I started writing this. WHEW. FINALLY I GOT TO TELL YOU GUYS.
> 
> So....now what?

**Author's Note:**

> For updates and other Dragon Age stuff, I'm on tumblr: [fenriswaifu.tumblr.com](http://fenriswaifu.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like my work, [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A0516SQ)! ♥


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